


Carcharhinus

by Teratist, WaitingForMy



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Reader, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Suicide, The clown is in this I promise, the slowest of burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-20 13:56:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 35
Words: 46,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13719132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teratist/pseuds/Teratist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaitingForMy/pseuds/WaitingForMy
Summary: All you wanted was to escape your family troubles, get a dog, work at an aquarium, and have a peaceful life. Unfortunately, this George Denbrough character who lives next door has quite a mysterious past, and so does your dog.





	1. New Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Before anyone asks: It's pronounced kar-kar-RYE-nus, it's the genus of requiem shark that includes the bull and oceanic whitetip sharks, and I promise it's relevant. :P
> 
> This story is fully outlined and about a third of the way done.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The pavement came towards your face faster than a speeding bullet.

Or, rather, your face came towards the pavement.

Either way, thank God you were carrying a box to break your fall, or your face would have been massively messed up. Not the best way to make a first impression. Not that your first impression was great, anyhow. People in Derry hated visitors, and you were worse: A new resident.

Your welcome had been less than warm, to say the least. Your realtor all but threw your keys at you in her office, and you were shown out by the death glares of everyone else in the building, left to fend for yourself when it came to moving in. On the bright side, the house was a steal. You wondered if that had anything to do with the apparent crack house next door. That place had to be infested with rats and snakes and spiders; you just knew it.

You didn’t have much. You were fresh out of college and had recently purged most of your childhood possessions—everything but a music box, in fact. Unfortunately, for June in Maine, it was unreasonably hot. You were drenched in sweat as you hauled yourself up off the ground, noticing your scraped and bleeding knees.

"Shit..."

As you trudged the rest of the way into the house you mused about how Derry seemed to be pushing you away, right from the start. It was a funny thought, at the time. You even chuckled.

Finally inside, you collapsed alongside the boxes in your living room and looked around. You realized that, in your haste to get all your boxes in before the heat of the day, you hadn’t even shown yourself around. You had taken a gamble, buying a house without ever seeing it in person, but it seemed to have paid off.

27 Neibolt Street was tiny—exactly what you needed for your lack of family and crippling fear of commitment. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, an eat-in kitchen, a living room, and a cellar. You might have space for a dog. Perhaps even a large one, like a Doberman. Yeah, that would be good. A nice, big, scary Doberman to protect a young woman living alone.

The house was outdated, but you kind of liked the 1980s aesthetic it had going on. Dusty, parquet hardwood gave way to thickly grouted tile in the kitchen and flat, gold colored carpet in the master bedroom that almost matched the kitchen appliances. You chuckled, because damn, it was awful. It was perfect.

As you opened the door to the second bedroom, you were almost startled. The wooden floors continued in, but were mostly covered by a dingy white rug. The walls were painted a soft pink. That wasn't the surprising part, though. The surprising part was, though the rest of the house was empty, this was a child's bedroom, completely intact. A little girl’s, by the looks of it. There was a little brass bed with floral sheets, covered in stuffed animals. There was a dollhouse in the corner, and a little tea set on a shelf. It was as if the door had closed on a normal day and never opened again, leaving this room lost in time, like an exhibit in a museum. You were almost surprised to find no glass wall, as you stepped inside.

The room gave you a strange feeling. Or perhaps it was strangely familiar: A childhood lost and forgotten.

You backed out of the room and closed the door again. More than anything, it felt like you were invading, taking over a place that was not meant to be yours.

You swallowed hard, because what if that was the truth? What if this place wasn't meant for you? What if you made a mistake? What if Derry really was trying to push you out?

A sharp stinging sensation across your knees brought you back to reality. You had been so anxious to see your new house, you had not yet cared for your skinned knees. God, did that make you feel like a child. You rummaged through the pile of your belongings that adorned the middle of the living room floor for your first aid kit, only to discover that you were out of Band-Aids.

"Well, shit..."

That's when reality hit you, sitting there in the middle of your new floor. You had a couple boxes of clothes, towels, blankets, a pillow, an air mattress, the single plate, bowl, and set of silverware you used at college, your laptop, your old music box, and the contents of your purse. You didn’t even have a chair to sit in.

You leaned back on your small pile of belongings and allowed yourself one minute to bask in the shittiness of it all.

“I’m alone,” you said out loud to no one, “and I have nothing.”

You got the distinct feeling your were in way over your head, but there was no use dwelling on it. You plugged in the fridge and headed to the grocery store.

* * *

The grocery store was a lot like the realtor’s office.

Maybe you were paranoid. Surely, not everyone was staring at you. Surely you didn't stick out that much. Still, from the moment you set foot in Derry, Maine, you felt like someone or another always had their eyes on you. A very disconcerting feeling, especially when purchasing such essentials as toilet paper and tampons.

You kept your head down and rushed through your errand. You knew you were probably forgetting things, but you were tired and didn’t care. Your body and mind were basically on autopilot as you zipped around the store, lost in your thoughts. _I need to get a job. What job am I going to get? Do I have time to settle in before job hunting? How will I pay the bills? Do I have enough saved up?_

"Just moved in?" The cashier's voice almost made you jump out of your skin.

The teenage girl smiled warmly at you—the first genuine smile you had seen in days. It was like a breath of fresh air. She had messy brown hair pulled back into a bun, a small, heart-shaped face with freckles sprayed across her nose and cheekbones, and the brightest green eyes. Her name tag read “Samantha.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Just this morning, in fact.”

The teen's warm smile turned into a knowing one. "Don't worry. People will warm up to you."

You scoffed. “You think so?”

That’s when the elderly man in line behind you piped up, “Hey, new girl, quit holding up the line!”

“Ignore him,” Samantha said, handing you your receipt. “Have a nice day, ma’am.”

“You too, Samantha,” you replied quietly, taking your groceries and hurrying out.

You tried to ignore that constant feeling of being stared at while you loaded your bags into the trunk of your car. You were just about to climb in the driver’s seat, when you noticed a sign down the street for the Derry Animal Shelter.

Fuck it. You were getting a dog.


	2. New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You adopt a dog and meet your new neighbor.

“Hello?”

The man behind the front desk at the animal shelter looked up from the newspaper he was reading and cocked an eyebrow at you. He had to be at least fifteen years older than you, and he was unkempt, sporting a wrinkled uniform and a significant five-o’clock shadow. Still, he checked you out from head to toe, spending way too much time eyeing certain areas. It felt like forever before his eyes returned to your face, and he noticed your stony expression. He smirked. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking to adopt a dog.”

“Oh.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, still looking at you hungrily. “What kind of dog you looking for, princess?”

“A guard dog,” you said forcefully.

The man chuckles and returns his attention to the newspaper, holding up a key he retrieved from under the desk. “Alright,” he conceded. “Go find yourself a dog.”

Angrily, you snatch the key and unlock the door to the pound, nearly slamming it behind you. The sound of barking dogs, present in the lobby, was overpowering now.

You were surrounded by cages containing dogs of all shapes and sizes, from the smallest chihuahua to a Great Dane that was almost as tall as you. Some snarled at you aggressively, while others cowered at the backs or their cages. You slowly walked down the hall, saddened by the sight of the homeless animals. If only you could take them all home.

At the end of the hallway, you happened to look to your left. The cage there contained a young German shepherd, curled up in the back, watching you. It didn’t seem afraid. You looked at the laminated paper sign attached to the metal bars.

“9017. Unnamed. German shepherd. Female. Birth date estimated 1/1/2016.”

You looked back at her. She was still watching you, head resting on her paws, ears perked forward. You noticed for the first time that her right eye was blue, while the other was a golden brown.

You marched right back out to the front desk and slammed the keys down, capturing the man there in a cold stare. “Nine-o-one-seven,” you said firmly.

Without even looking up from his newspaper, the man opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out a form. Only then did turn his attention away from his reading, picking up a pen and writing the number in the top left corner. “You got a name?”

“[YN] [LN].”

“You got a name for the dog?”

“...Lexie.”

He scratched the information down on the paper.

“Adoption fee’s twenty bucks,” he sighed, sliding the form over to you. “I’ma need your signature, and I’ll go get your dog.” He stood up, taking the keys and disappearing into the back.

Usually, you would scribble your signature in half a second. This time, you took your time, making it look like your name. You weren’t sure why you did it. You guessed you just wanted to make sure that dog was yours.

The man soon reemerged with the dog - Lexie - on a dingy, old collar and leash. He grunted, “Don’t got any kids, do ya?”

“Um, no,” you replied. “Why?”

He nodded to Lexie. “This one don’t like kids, much.”

“Well, I don’t have kids.” You snatched the leash from him. “May we go?”

He gave you another leering look, nodding slowly as he looked you up and down one more time. “She’s all yours.”

You left without another word, Lexie walking obediently in the heel position. You opened the passenger side door of your car, and she hopped right in.

“You’re awfully well trained, for a puppy,” you said, scratching behind her ears. “How’d you end up in the pound with that nasty man, hm?”

She licked your hand as you withdrew it, and you chuckled. “You must really hate kids, Lexie.”

You closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. As you opened the door and slid into your own seat, you mulled over your poor time management skills. You didn’t have anything to take care of a dog, but you had groceries that were probably half melted already in the trunk. You sighed. Home first, then pet store.

* * *

Nothing was very far, in Derry. You and Lexie were home in no time, and you put away your groceries while Lexie bounded around the house, exploring.

You had just finished putting away the refrigerated and frozen items when you heard a distressed whine come from somewhere else in the house. “Lexie?” you called out, already on your way to find her.

You followed the sound to the child’s bedroom, where Lexie was sitting, facing the door, head tilted. She turned to look at you, when she heard you approach. You closed your fingers protectively around her collar.

“Hello?” you called out, receiving no answer. Not even a bump came from the closed room.

Your heart was beating about a million miles per hour. With the hand that didn’t have a firm hold on your dog, you turned the handle and pushed the door open with an ominous crrreeeaaak.

As soon as the door opened, Lexie began to squirm against your grip on her collar. Once you were satisfied that there was, in fact, not a murderer hiding in your house, you let her go, and she beelined it for the window. She jumped up on her hind legs, resting her front paws on the sill and sniffing at the line where the window closed, stirring up dust and god knows what else. You walked over to see what she was getting at, and discovered a spattering of red across the windowsill, both inside and out.

“Creepy as fuck…” you murmured to yourself, taking a deep breath to calm your frayed nerves…

...only for them to be heightened once again, as three sharp bangs came from somewhere else in the house, causing you to jump and Lexie to start barking, running towards the noise.

You broke down in laughter when you realized it was only a knock on the door.

You jogged to the front of the house and took a hold of Lexie’s collar once more, to keep her from bolting outside. You opened the door, revealing a man about your age with light brown hair and wide, blue eyes.

He blinked when he saw you, as if surprised you had opened the door. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you parroted.

After an uncomfortably long silence, the man shook his head as if to clear it. “Sorry; I’m really bad at introductions.” He grinned sheepishly and nodded towards the crack house. “I live next door.”

“Really?” You couldn’t keep the incredulousness out of your voice.

Luckily, he didn’t seem offended. In fact, he laughed. “Yeah. Inherited it from a relative I didn’t know I had. Don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“You and me, both. Not having anywhere else to go, I mean.”

Lexie pulled away from your grip and trotted back into the house.

“My name’s [YN], by the way,” you said, straightening up now that you weren’t holding on to Lexie’s collar. You offered your right hand for a handshake, which the man gladly returned.

“Oh, right. Names.” He smiled sheepishly. “I told you I’m back at introductions.”

You smiled back, beginning to feel a little playful.  “Well? What’s your name, then?”

“George Denbrough.”

“Would you like to come in?”

“Sure. Thank you.”


	3. Emily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something wrong with this town.

You told George to make himself at home, and went to get Lexie. Just as you suspected, she was back in the little girl’s room, sniffing at the windowsill. The whole room gave you the creeps, especially since you found the stains.

“Lexie,” you whispered, kneeling down next to her and scratching beneath her chin. “It’s just a little red paint, girl. Nothing to be afraid of.”

You stood back up and ran your fingertips over the stains. They were a deep, transparent red, almost brown, splattered and soaked into the wood. You swallowed hard. It looked like blood. It really looked like blood, all over the windowsill.

“Emily.”

You jumped half a mile, slamming your hand over your heart as you whipped around.

George was standing in the doorway, eyes trained on the windowsill, staring blankly.

“The little girl that lived in here. Her name was Emily.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “Did something happen to her? Why is all her stuff still here?”

He took a deep breath. “She disappeared. Same as all the others.”

“Same as all the others?” You laid a protective hand on Lexie’s head.

George’s gaze was drawn by your motion, and he dismissed you with a low wave of his hand. “No, she’s okay, it’s just kids. They’re all kids.”

As if you weren’t already burdened with an insatiable desire to get out of that room. “What are you talking about?” you asked as you pushed Lexie out of the room, forcing George to back up. You closed the door behind you.

George sighed, looking at you with great honesty and sympathy, but an edge as well. “There’s something wrong with this town, [YN],” he told you. “People go missing -  _ kids _ go missing. Vanish without a trace.”

You shook your head. “There must be more to it than that.”

“Oh, there is. But that’s...a long story.”

You wanted to know more, but before you could even ask, his demeanor shifted again, and he looked at you as if you had just been discussing your weekend plans. “I should get going back to my house. I’ve still got so many renovations to do.”

He didn’t wait for your response to begin walking away, but you had one last question.

“George.”

He stopped and glanced back at you over his shoulder.

“Do you know where I can find a pet store?”

* * *

 

Of course, the pet store was right next to the grocery store where you had just been. You brought Lexie, surprised to find that she walked perfectly on a leash.

First thing, you brought her to the toy aisle and let her pick one out. You figured she could carry it around while you shopped.

Lexie didn’t hesitate for a moment in selecting a plush turtle. She looked up at you with big eyes and a wagging tail, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Oh, how could you be so in love with her after just a few hours?

“Lexie, you’re too much.”

Then, a mother and her young son walked onto the aisle. The kid looked to be around seven years old. You tightened your grip on Lexie’s leash, remembering what the man at the pound said;  _ “This one don’t like kids, much.” _

You tensed, when the little boy runs up to her, but to your surprise, she looked totally happy to meet him.

“May I pet your dog?” he asked, all sweetness and innocence.

You hesitated for a moment, but read Lexie’s behavior. “Sure,” you finally concede.

Much to your relief, Lexie did nothing but wag her tail and hold her turtle in her mouth while the little boy clumsily rubbed his hands all over her face. You smirked. Of course you shouldn’t have trusted that nasty man at the pound. He clearly didn’t know the first thing about your dog.

You beamed with pride as you made your way up and down the aisles with Lexie being a perfect angel. Amazing how much friendlier the people of Derry were when the newcomer had a cute dog.

You picked out a large, fluffy, white dog bed, a sparkly, purple collar with a new leash, and the the best dog food you could afford. Last, but certainly not least, you made her a heart shaped tag.  “Lexie [LN], 27 Neibolt Street,” and your phone number.

You let Lexie into the car before loading your supplies into the trunk and getting in yourself. Lexie let out a cheerful yip and you smiled. You clicked on the radio, and a newscaster’s voice flooded the car.

“As we head into this Summer season, remember the curfew is still-” You changed the station, causing the signal to crackle.  _ “-sleep all day, since you took your love away-” _ Crackle.  _ “Every breath you ta-”  _ Crackle.  _ “-disagree? I travel th-” _

“God, why is it all so retro?” you lamented to Lexie, changing the station again.

_ “-nothing to do, nothing to prove-” _

Ah, finally. A song you know. You rolled down the windows and sang along with the radio.

_ “You and me and all of the people, and I don’t know why I can’t keep my eyes off of you.” _

It felt like no time, jamming out to the radio, before you found yourself back on Neibolt Street. George was outside trying to clean up his disaster of a yard. He heard you coming, what with the music blasting through your window, and waved at you as you went by. You smiled and waved back. He was really quite cute.

Your smile grew as you realized, despite all the crap it took to get here, your life was beginning. Finally, your life was beginning. You had a home of your own, a beautiful dog, and a cute next door neighbor. There were worse places to be.

George jogged over to your car as you let Lexie out and began to get her things from the trunk. “Let me help you.”

“You really don’t have t-”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he snapped.

You were taken aback.

“I’m helping Lexie,” he clarified, and a mischievous smile spread across his lips.

You shook your head in disbelief at this boy.

“But really,” he continued, nodding towards the setting sun, “curfew starts at seven. It’s just for kids, but you should really be careful.”

You glanced at him quizzically as you gathered Lexie’s new bed into your arms. “Curfew?”

He nodded. “It’s because of the disappearances.”

You smirked. “That’s why I got Lexie.”

“Lexie won’t be able to protect you from whatever’s out there.”

You were struck by the word “whatever.” You had assumed these were kidnappings - that a “whoever” was responsible. The idea of a “whatever” was almost comforting. That is, until you asked, “You think it’s an animal?”

George looked surprised by your question. “No. No, it’s definitely not an animal.”

“Oh.” You shrugged. “It’s just...you said ‘whatever’ instead of ‘whoever.’”

George bit his bottom lip nervously. “Yeah.”

You waited, silently asking him to continue.

He glanced nervously between your eyes and the ground. “It’s a long story.”

You sighed, accepting that was all you were going to get.

“Come on,” you said finally. “If you help me bring this stuff in, I’ll help you with that jungle you call a front yard.”

His smile reached his baby blue eyes. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs on the radio are Nothing Compares 2 U by Sinéad O'Connor, Every Breath You Take by The Police, Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics, and You and Me by Lifehouse.


	4. Samantha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An encounter in the library leads you closer to understanding your new home.

The next few days were spent with your nose buried in a newspaper, trying to find a job. You had made a couple calls, but - surprise - no one needed help from the new girl in town. Sometimes, you helped George clean up his yard, but even he had been AWOL for the last couple days. Lexie was a godsend. Her twice-daily walks gave you a good excuse to pause the job searching and go outside.

After another morning scanning the  _ Help Wanted _ section, you snapped. You needed to go somewhere. To  _ do _ something. Yet, the inevitable guilt that came with doing something unproductive remained in the back of your head like a bear lurking in its den.

You saw Lexie on her dog bed, napping. You could do something for her. You decided to go to the library and look at some books on dogs.

The Derry Public Library was large, for such a small town. You had to ask for help finding dog training books, earning you an irritated glance from the librarian. Whether she hated newcomers like everyone else in Derry or just hated dogs, you would never know. She led you to a tiny section tucked in the middle of the library, where your hopes of finding a simple, all purpose book on “Dog Training” were quickly dashed. Catchy and bizarre titles like _The Culture Clash_ and _Don’t Shoot the Dog!_ jumped out at you from the shelf. Curiosity piqued, you picked up _Don’t Shoot the Dog!_ and began sifting through quadrants of reinforcement and punishment, types of conditioning, and rules of shaping.

“Hi, stranger.”

You jump half a mile before recognizing the voice as George’s.

“You’ve gotta stop doing that!” you admonish him, earning you a cheeky grin in return.

“Doing what?”

“Appearing out of thin air.”

“[YN], I’m only human.”

“Which is exactly what an alien in a human suit would say.” You roll your eyes, returning the book in your hand to its spot on the shelf.

George chuckled and leaned his shoulder against the stacks, all in a disgustingly attractive way. He was holding a large book across his chest.

“Whatcha got there?” you asked, snatching it from him. It was a rhetorical question, of course, as the title was printed right in front of your face. “ _ History of Derry _ , huh?”

He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. His voice was hushed, when he spoke. “It’s a strange town we’ve stumbled upon, [YN].”

“You can say that again.”

George reached out, and you thought he was going to take the book back, but instead he took your arm, suddenly looking very serious.

“Come with me,” he commanded.

The two of you sat down next to each other at a table, and George cracked open the book. “This town has a long history of crazy tragedies, and they all have one thing in common-”

“Oh my god, is that a clown?” you snorted, pointing at an otherwise innocuous picture of a town gathering.

The clown in the picture looked like something you would have found in doll form upstairs in your grandparents’ old farmhouse. It - er,  _ he _ , it would seem - was wearing a dingy, gray costume with frills around the edges and orange puffs down the front. His hair looked like fire, and his shoes looked more like elf shoes than clown shoes. Red lines extended up past his eyes from his painted lips, and his nose was painted like a child might paint on a cat nose for Halloween. His smile was almost infantile in its innocence, which somehow served to make you feel uneasy about him.

George took a shaky breath. “Yeah, that’s it.”

A quiet gasp came from a nearby table. “You can see it?”

You and George turned towards the voice, which belonged to a young girl. She looked to be about thirteen or fourteen. She had ebony skin and the most striking brown eyes. She was staring at the two of you like you were the second coming of the Christ.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

Her shocked voice was so quiet, it was barely a whisper. “None of the other adults can see it,” she said. “They can’t see the clown.”

You looked to George, who looked enraptured with this new,  _ impossible _ information.

The young girl sensed your disbelief and marched over. “Here, I’ll  _ show _ you.” She took the book and headed over to the librarian’s desk. George followed obediently. You followed reluctantly.

The girl handed the open book to the librarian. “Ma’am, do you see a clown in this picture?”

The librarian put on her glasses on and began studying the page intensely. You shook your head. He was right in the front and center of the photo. You had seen him right away.

Finally, the librarian chuckled. “This is quite the ‘Where’s Waldo,’ Arianna. No, I don’t see a clown.”

You couldn’t stand it. You walked right up to the desk and pointed to the  _ very obvious _ clown in the picture. “He’s right here.”

The librarian raised an unamused eyebrow at you. “And who exactly are you?”

“[YN] [LN],” you snapped. “And this whole ‘hate the new girl’ thing is getting really old really fast.”

The girl - Arianna - gave you a pointed look, picked up the book, and led you and George back to the table. “I  _ told _ you,” she insisted. “They can’t see it.”

“Then why can  _ we _ see it?” you asked.

“Because it wants you to,” she said gravely, looking between you and George. “You two should be careful. You could be in danger.”

You sighed heavily, turning your attention away from Arianna and onto George. “I need to get back to the job search.”

You stood up and walked towards the exit. You were halfway there when George’s hand caught your arm and turned you around.

“[YN], there’s something going on here. Don’t you see it?”

“See what?” you hissed. “Some weirdo in a clown suit in a decades old photo that some senile librarian can’t detect? She was probably there with her great-grandkids when that photo was taken. She probably needs her bifocals checked!”

“Keep your voice down! We’re in a library.”

You threw your hands up in exasperation. “Whatever this is - whatever is wrong with this town - it has nothing to do with me, and I don’t want any part in it.”

“Everyone in Derry has a part in it,” George insisted, “whether you want to or not.”

“I…”

Your protest fizzled out as you caught sight of a piece of paper on the wall. At the top of the page, “Missing” was printed in a bold font. Below it, a depiction of a young woman with brown hair, a heart-shaped face, freckles, and bright eyes. You recognized her immediately as the sweet teenager who rang you up at the grocery store on your first day in Derry.

“Samantha,” you whispered, that name still cemented in your memory.

She was the first ray of kindness that found you in Derry. The first ray of kindness that found you in years.

And it  _ stung _ to see her picture on that poster. Such a kind, young, beautiful girl. You thought about the parents who so obviously poured all their love into her to raise her right. You thought about her friends. If you were heartbroken over the loss of that warm smile, so was the whole town, surely.

“Are you okay?” George asked solemnly, having followed your gaze to the poster and back.

You swallowed hard and forced a shallow nod.

That’s when something else caught your eye. Had that flyer been there, just a second ago? It was almost as if it just appeared there, before your eyes.

“Help Wanted: New! Derry Aquarium”

You had volunteered at an aquarium in high school and loved it. It seemed almost too good to be true, but there it was.

Maybe, things were still looking up, after all.


	5. Gage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the name finally makes some sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First one to catch the reference to another Stephen King story gets an imaginary cookie.

“I really can’t thank you enough for doing this.”

George scoffed, scratching Lexie’s head. “Please. Thanks for letting me play with your puppy.”

The aquarium wanted you to come in for an entire day of training so you could start as soon as possible, so George, like the saint he was turning out to be, agreed to take care of Lexie.

“I should probably get your cell number, in case something happens,” you suggested.

Georgie grimaced sheepishly. “I don’t have a cell phone.”

You scoffed, “You what?”

“Don’t have a cell phone.

“Where have you been the last thirty years?” you joked. George just rolled his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll just call the landline.” You turned your attention back to Lexie. “Be a good girl, okay?” you said to your darling puppy, patting her on her head.

George smiled at the two of you. “Have a good day, [YN].”

You smiled back, and with a simple “Thanks. You, too,” you were off to your first day of work in Derry.

* * *

The Derry Aquarium was built in an old factory across the street from Bassey Park. The logo was a fish made out of a D. _Creative._ On one of the heavy metal doors, it was partially covered by another missing person’s poster. _Gage Creed. 3 years old. Last seen-_

You stopped reading an stepped inside. The first room you entered looked like the lobby of a dentist’s office. It was painted light blue, and a large fish tank decorated one wall. There was a simple, black desk directly in front of you, behind which sat a large woman in a seafoam-green polo shirt. There was a door to each side, behind the desk.

Something like relief crossed the woman’s face when she saw you, and she smiled. “You must be [YN].”

You nodded. “That I am.”

The woman nodded towards the door on her left, your right. “The aquarists’ office is that way,” she said. “Mark is the director of animal care. He’ll give you your first assignment.”

“Thanks,” you replied curtly, making your way to and through the doorway.

Once in the “behind the scenes” area, the Derry Aquarium lost any aesthetic it may have had. The walls were gray, the floors were sealed concrete in an ugly teal, and the hallway was illuminated in obnoxious, fluorescent lighting.

A few steps down the hallway was an open door on the right. Inside, a man was ticking away at a computer.

“Mark?” you asked.

He turned to you and offered a grin. “[YN]. It’s good to finally meet you in person.”

Mark was a tall man. He appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties, with tan skin, mousy brown hair, and ice blue eyes. He stood up to greet you and shake your hand.

“Have you visited the aquarium, before?” he asked, towering over you.

You smiled sheepishly. “Nope, sure haven’t.”

He chuckled good-naturedly. “Well, it’s only been open for a couple months. Let me show you around.”

The aquarium was set up like an Ikea furniture store, with one path winding through the entire thing. You passed twenty or more small tanks filled with yellow tangs, sergeant majors, cardinalfish, lobsters, sea stars, an impressive assortment of butterflyfish - you name it. Then came the octopus, in its floor to ceiling, cylindrical habitat. There was a touch pool filled with cownose rays and southern stingrays. Finally, at the end of the path, you came to the three largest tanks in the aquarium. One contained an assortment of docile sharks: nurse, sand tiger, and sandbar, to name a few. Two loggerhead sea turtles bobbed gently around their adjacent habitat. The final habitat was-

“The centerpiece of the aquarium,” Mark said proudly, beaming through the glass at two round, stout beasts. “ _Carchar-_ ”

“ _-rhinus leucas_ ,” you finished for him. “Bull sharks.”

Mark nodded. “Two beautiful girls. The bigger one there weighs in at three hundred pounds.”

You nodded in agreement. “She’s gorgeous.”

You knew all about bull sharks. You had gone through quite the shark phase in middle school. They’re one of, if not _the_ most dangerous species of shark. They can swim up rivers all the way into freshwater, and they’re known to attack unprovoked. Some say the majority of shark bites attributed to the great white were actually bull sharks. They’re unhinged killing machines.

The sight of those two girls gave you chills. You would not want to find yourself in the water with either of them...but behind glass, they were beautiful.

“What are their names?” you asked.

Mark shrugged. “They don’t have names...but your coworkers do, and I suppose I should introduce you to them.”

And he did - all eight of them.

There was Beth, the slender brunette, Johnny, with the undercut and the thick-rimmed glasses, Jordan, with the golden-blonde ballerina bun, and Sarah, who had huge, gray eyes. Amy had purple hair, Tristan had curly hair and dimples, and Megan had a round face. Abigail had jet black hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. They all wore seafoam green t-shirts with “Staff” printed across the breast and the logo on the back.

You were given your own uniform t-shirts, of course. Mark passed you off to Abigail, whom you shadowed for the day, learning all about your daily duties. It seemed pretty simple. Show up in the morning, prepare the animals’ food. Clean tanks, clean staff areas, talk to guests, feed the animals. You got the feeling you would like it there, and the day flew by. Before you knew it, you were on your way home.

* * *

The sun was just setting, when you pulled back into your driveway and walked over to George’s house to get Lexie. You knocked, and George answered the door. He spoke in a hushed voice.

“Come on in. Lexie’s asleep.”

You snorted. It seemed your dog liked sleep as much as you did.

As you stepped through the threshold, you realized you had never been in the house at 29 Neibolt Street, before. There was something about it that took your breath away, even in its disheveled state of renovation. There was a staircase and a study to your left, and a living room to your right. Lexie was curled up on an old sofa in front of an ornate fireplace. “Good Cheer Good Friends” was carved into the dusty mantle, and all around, tall windows let in the orange glow of the sunset.

“You don’t have to let her on your furniture,” you told George apologetically.

He shrugged. “She’s a dog. I’m sure much worse has been on this old furniture.”

Lexie opened her eyes when she heard your voices, and came bounding over to you excitedly. You were surprised she didn’t jump on you.

“This is a beautiful house,” you told George. “I’m sure it’ll look amazing, when you get all the work done.”

“Oh, right!” George looked surprised. “You haven’t seen it. Please, let me show you around.”

But the tour didn’t make it past the first hallway, thanks to Lexie, who became fixated on a door.

“What’s in there?” you asked.

“Just the cellar.” George opened the door to show you, and Lexie ran down the stairs.

“Lexie!” you called out, running after her.

George followed close behind. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have opened the-”

“ _Lexie!_ ”

You cut him off with your shriek, because there was a well in the cellar, and Lexie had her front paws up on the edge and was looking down into it. You were there in an instant, pulling her away.

You looked into the well and saw nothing but a black abyss below.

“It’s like the window in Emily’s room,” George said.

Yeah. That’s what you were afraid of.


	6. Clever Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knock knock, [YN]...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's hung in with me for five whole chapters without the clown! He'll be a bigger and bigger part of the story from here on out.
> 
> I'd like to dedicate his first appearance to my dearest friend and beta reader, Teratist. ;)

You slammed the door to the animal shelter behind you, feeling bad only for a second when Lexie flinched, and lo and behold, it was the same greasy bastard behind the desk as the day you brought Lexie home.

Just the person you wanted to see.

You marched up to the desk and Lexie immediately sat down by your side.

The man smirked at you. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Shove it,” you snapped. “Where did this dog come from? You know more about her than you told me. And she’s  _ great _ with kids.”

The man’s smirk slowly faded during your brief tirade, and then he was looking at you the way one might look at rush hour traffic. “Why do you care? You brought her back, didn’t ya?”

You unconsciously tightened your grip on the leash. “I’m  _ not _ bringing her back. I’m finding out about her past, and  _ you’re _ going to tell me what you know about it.”

The man folded his arms and let out an exasperated sigh. “Police dog in training. Freaked out at a carnival, a couple months ago. Can’t have a police dog doin’ that.”

_ Police dog in training. _ It made so much sense. No wonder she was drawn to the window in Emily’s room, where there was blood on the sill. But that begged the terrifying question; what was in the well at George’s house?

* * *

 

You almost laughed at yourself.  _ It’s an old well. Anything could be down there. _

Back at your house on Neibolt Street, you tossed your car keys onto the counter and flopped onto the couch. You had spent the entire previous day being trained at the aquarium, and the next day was your first official day of work. You needed to relax.

Lexie laid down in front of you, and you ran your fingertips through the longer fur on her scruff. You quickly drifted off into a fitful slumber.

* * *

 

You dreamed of a sky like ink, cold air, green grass, and tiny flowers blooming in between muddy footpaths.

Springtime. Spring  _ Solstice _ , something in the depths of your dream told you.

You were in Derry, in Bassey park, but it was all dancing lights and stomping feet and lilting laughter. The cold air was broken up by the warm scent of hot dogs, cotton candy, and...popcorn.

A carnival. You were at a carnival.

You drifted through like a ghost, watching, but not present.

You saw children. So, so many children. Some ran freely, weaving in and out of the dancing lights without a care in the world. Others stopped to watch their backs like timid deer in a colorful forest. Signs posted on nearly ever vendor commanded  _ Children must be accompanied at all times. _

_ Instead of the curfew _ , you thought.

Of course, very few of these children were accompanied, but there were adults everywhere. Whatever psycho was terrorizing Derry, it would be exceedingly difficult to snatch a child from this event without being seen.

You had half a second to wonder what you were doing there, before your eyes fell on her: A german shepherd puppy in a police vest, with one blue eye and one golden brown. She was sitting by her trainer’s feet, tongue hanging relaxedly from her mouth as she looked around. Any other dog you knew would have been driven crazy by the lights and the sounds and the smells and the children. She was well trained.

You knew your dog, and you spotted her change in demeanor before it physically occured. She closed her mouth and her eyes locked on to something. Anyone else would have thought she simply saw something that could her interest. You knew better. You felt the dramatic shift in her energy, saw the hairs on her scruff just barely raise, noticed her ears tilt ever so slightly back.

Something was very, very wrong.

You followed her gaze, and you saw it.

No, literally.  _ It. _

It was the clown from the picture in that library book.

You felt an instantaneous tug on your heart - a desire to protect Lexie. But the clown wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at you.

He didn’t move a muscle or speak a word; he just stared straight into your soul with oddly familiar, blue eyes.

You noticed out of the corner of your eye when a small child took interest in him and began toddling his way. Your heart dropped, and you watched, terrified, as the clown’s painted mouth slowly stretched into a smile that you could only describe as evil. Like you were looking at the devil himself.

The cop holding Lexie - or whatever her name was, back then - wasn’t paying attention, so it didn’t take much for her to jerk the leash from his hand as she took off running and barking, stirring up quite a commotion. It was almost as if the lights danced faster as people darted out of the way, crying out in surprise (you thought you heard the officer call her “Penny,” as he raced through the crowd).

Lexie - Penny - was maybe ten feet from the clown when she curved hard to the right. You were stunned. She wasn’t going after the clown; she was going after the  _ child. _

_ What…? _ Your voice in your head sounded canned. You remembered that you were watching, not present. Why, then, was the clown looking at you?

And hadn’t his eyes been blue, a moment ago? They were yellow, now, and brighter than any of the carnival lights.

Somehow, that’s how you knew. You looked at Lexie, aghast in admiration.  _ Clever girl… _

She couldn’t fight the clown, but she could scare the child away from him.

You met the clown’s burning yellow eyes again, but this time, he spoke.

“Knock knock, [YN]. Ohoho!” His laugh sounded like a hiccup. “Knock knock.  _ Knock knock. KNOCK KNOCK! _ ”

* * *

You sat bolt upright on the couch, startled awake by a knock on the door.

You jumped off the couch and jogged for the door. Lexie remained on the floor in front of the couch, so it seemed nothing was wrong. You opened the door.

You found yourself face to face with the young girl you met in the library. She was wearing a striped shirt and denim overalls, and her hair was pulled into a high ponytail that fluffed like a pom-pom at the back of her head.

“[YN], right?” she asked.

You noticed the  _ History of Derry _ tucked under her arm.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Arianna, right?”

“Yep!” She placed her hand on your door and pushed her way inside. “Jesus, girl, you got nothin’ in here.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked incredulously.

It was too late; Lexie was already wagging her tail happily while Arianna scratched her head, and Lord knows you could never say no to that dog.

_ Clever girl. _

Arianna turned to you with sharp, determined eyes. She held the large library book firmly in both her hands. “You saw something,” she said. “I  _ know _ you did. You know something’s going on here, in Derry.”

You swallowed the hint of fear that threatened to bubble up in your throat.

Oh god, did you know.

_ Knock knock, [YN]. _

“I tried to go next door,” Arianna continued. “Your neighbor seems more accepting of the truth. But he wasn’t home.”

You frowned. “George is usually home, at this time.”

Arianna’s voice turned pleading. “ _ Please _ , [YN]. None of the other adults can see it, and Mr. Hanlon won’t let me help. He doesn’t want me to get involved.”

“Neither do I.” You folded your arms across your chest. “Look, kid - Arianna - whoever is snatching these kids, it’s not someone you want to mess with. Especially considering your age and your…” You waved your hand, struggling for the word. “Female-ness.”

Arianna folded her arms right back. “Look, I am gonna get to the bottom of what’s going on in this town, so you and George Denbrough can either help me or leave me to whatever is out there.”

“Fine!” You threw your hands up in defeat. “Fine. You want to go on a crazy clown hunt? We’ll go on a crazy clown hunt. In a week. On my next day off.”

Arianna couldn’t hide the hint of a smile that threatened to show on her face. “It’s a deal. Shake on it.”

When she offered you her hand, you hesitated one last time.

“Won’t your parents be worried about you hanging around with a couple of adults?”

“No.”

You were almost positive that was a lie, but she seemed confident.

You shook on it.


	7. Georgie

After a full week of working at the short-staffed aquarium, you were definitely regretting the deal you made with Arianna. You were beat. Mentally and physically exhausted.

It didn’t help that the clown kept showing up in your dreams. It was innocuous enough. You would see it in your peripheral vision. Sometimes it would let out a shrill giggle. Sometimes it was holding a balloon. It never came close to you. Even still, when you saw it, you would feel like you were falling, and you would wake up in a cold sweat.

The plan was to meet at 29 Neibolt Street at noon. You arrived at eleven-thirty, and you were struggling to keep from falling asleep at George’s dining room table.

“I take it work is going well,” he said, handing you a cup of coffee and sitting down across from you.

You were already on your third cup, but your first one at George’s house. You nodded sleepily, taking a sip.

“This is ridiculous, George,” you asserted, setting the cup down. “Why are we playing into this poor girl’s obsession? Whatever this clown thing is, it’s not real.”

You were trying to convince yourself more than anything else, but you made George mildly angry, nonetheless.

“You know it’s real, [YN],” he said. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

You shook your head. “No, of course n-”

“But you’ve dreamed about it! I know you have!”

You blinked, shocked. “How on Earth did you-?”

George dismissed your question with a wave of his hand. “Just forget about it.”

Just then, the doorbell rang. George went to answer it and returned with Arianna. The  _ History of Derry _ was tucked under her arm again, just like it had been when she’d visited you the week before. She had a red and white striped backpack on her back. She wasted no time in sitting down at the head of the table and cracking the huge book open.

“First thing’s first,” she said. “Before we can defeat It, we have to know what It is.”

“Woah, who said anything about defeating it?” You looked nervously at George and back.

Arianna gave you a look that could freeze the Atlantic ocean. “You want more kids to go missing, [YN]?”

“Yeah, [YN],” George said, giving you a lighthearted smirk that made it clear enough that he was messing with you.

You rolled your eyes.

Arianna thundered on. “Whatever It is, it comes back every twenty-seven years. It shows up in the fall and disappears again the next fall. 1988 to 1989, 1961 to 1962, 1934 to 1935. And now…”

“2015 to 2016,” you finished for her.

“Exactly.”

George wasn’t adding anything, but he was listening with rapt attention.

That’s when Arianna withdrew a little bit. “There also seems to be something about It...like a memory spell...no one can remember It.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

Arianna sighed and nervously reached into her backpack. You never could have expected what she brought out.

It was a folded and crumpled missing person’s poster. It depicted a little boy. That wasn’t what scared you. It was what you read that made your blood run cold.

_ Georgie Denbrough. 6 years old. Last seen October 3rd, 1988 wearing a yellow raincoat and- _

And you couldn’t bear to read anymore. You covered your face with your hands, feeling sick to your stomach.

It wasn’t so much the fact that George had gone missing as a kid. It was seeing his name on one of those posters. Your only friend in this godforsaken town.

You heard George’s chair move back from the table and his gentle footsteps on the creaky floor as he walked around the table to you. He put his hands on your shoulders and gently guided you out of your chair.

“Excuse us, Arianna,” he said softly. He led you down the hallway, where he pulled you into a hug.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“How did you know I’ve been dreaming about It?”

He sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I just know.”

“George, whatever is happening, we don’t stand a chance against it.”

“Yes, we do, as long as we do it together.”

He put his hands back on your shoulders and guided you back so he could look at you. “We’ve got this, [YN].  _ You’ve _ got this.” He placed one of his hands on your cheek. “It’s okay to be afraid.”

You giggled nervously, almost hysterically. “Good, because I am.”

George pulled you back into a hug, rubbing your back soothingly, affectionately. It was the first time you’d felt affection from a human in…

You couldn’t even remember. That’s how long it had been.

You didn’t want him to let you go, but eventually, he did.

“Come on,” George said softly, placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you back to the kitchen.

You sat back down, but George didn’t. He stayed behind you, keeping a hand on you at all times. You were more than thankful for the support. Without it, you felt like you would fall right through the floor.

“Are you okay, [YN]?” Arianna asked, looking guilty.

You nodded weakly.

_ Just a lack of sleep, _ you thought.  _ Just a lack of good sleep, because this damn clown and this damn town have gotten to my head. _

George and Arianna kept talking, but their words flew around your head like leaves in the wind. Your focus was on not throwing up. You caught a few words:  _ Easter, Bradley, cycle, sewer. _

The meeting ended with an agreement. Same time next week, the Barrens.


	8. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Georgie (finally) asks you out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm almost halfway done writing this story. I'll try to post more, but I don't want to catch up to myself.

It had been a couple days since your meeting with George and Arianna, and you hadn’t dreamed about the clown, again. You hoped you were over that for good.

The aquarium was all but empty. You stood in front of the last large tank - the one with the bull sharks. They really were beautiful. You wanted to give them names, but couldn’t think of anything that fit. They were just too big, too powerful, too...wow.

It was almost peaceful, watching those two, even though either of them could rip your flesh off your bones faster than you could say  _ shark. _

“Beautiful,” you murmured.

Your albeit morbid reverie was interrupted by a voice right next to your ear. All it said was “Hi,” and you almost had a heart attack.

“Georgie!” you gasped. “Didn’t I tell you to stop appearing out of nowhere?”

He tilted his head, like a confused puppy. “You just called me Georgie.”

You frowned. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” Where had you heard that?

Your blood turned to ice.

_ Georgie Denbrough. 6 years old. Last seen October 3rd, 1988- _

You shook the thought out of your head, doing your damndest to return to pleasant conversation. You were sick of It, whatever It was, taking over your life.

Georgie was looking at the sharks in awe. “Never took you for a ‘man eater’ kind of person,” he said with a smirk.

You huffed. “They’re not man eaters.”

“But they could be.”

“So could you.”

“Touché.”

You watched the sharks in silence for a few moments, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered a little when Georgie was around.

He spoke up suddenly and very quickly, causing you to flinch a little. “Would you like to go on a date with me, [YN]?”

You blink, gaping embarrassingly. “What?”

Georgie’s face flushed. “I asked if you would like to go on a date with me.” He glanced at the sharks, then at your feet. “I like you a lot, [YN].”

Oh, if this poor boy only knew. If he only knew that you had no idea how to be a girlfriend, that there was nothing in the world you feared more than commitment, that you had sworn you would never get married-

You mentally admonished yourself. The man was asking you on a date, not to be the father of your children, but the thought did little to unclench your fists or quell the heat that erupted in your cheeks. Your heart rate rises and your stomach churns threateningly. Oh god, what do you say? You like Georgie. You really do. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t catching feelings for him. But what if it becomes more than a date? What if he expects more? What if he’s  _ asking _ for more?

No. All he asked was to take you on a date.

“I would love to go on a date with you, Georgie,” you answered finally. The words tasted foreign but sweet in your mouth.

The smile that crossed his face made everything worth it. He positively lit up. “Can I pick you up at eight?” he asked.

“Eight it is,” you confirmed, making every attempt to turn your stupid grin into a coy smirk. “I’ll see you then, Mr. Denbrough.”

“Until then, Miss [LN].”

* * *

 

“You’re supposed to keep the ball out of the gutter.”

Georgie scoffed and smirked in your direction. “Smartass.”

He then proceeded to roll the ball directly into the gutter, sending you into a fit of giggles.

If you had thought Georgie was endearing before, you knew he was stupidly endearing when he took you bowling on your first date. He had gotten this horrified look on your face when you laughed. “People still like bowling, right?” Which only made you laugh harder. Then, as it turns out, he was absolutely terrible at bowling. Even better.

Georgie sighed, making the walk of shame back to you. “You want something from the snack bar?”

You stepped up for your turn, picked up a neon pink ball, and held it to your chest. “Popcorn?”

“Popcorn,” Georgie repeated, smiling. “Is that your favorite?”

You smiled back. “Uh-huh.”

“Mine, too.”

You watched as Georgie walked over to the snack bar, smiling fondly. He was such a nice boy. Really. You wondered why he was always so eager to hang out with you. Surely, he had a lot of friends.

That’s when you realized you knew next to nothing about your date and neighbor and friend. Who was Georgie Denbrough?

You rolled the hot pink ball down the lane and knocked down seven pins. On your second try, you hit one more. That’s when Georgie arrived with two bags of popcorn.

“Georgie,” you beckoned, accepting a bag and sitting down on the plastic couch that accompanied your lane. You patted the spot next to you, indicating for Georgie to sit down as well, which he did without hesitation. “Tell me about you,” you said through a mouthful of popcorn.

Georgie’s eyebrows lowered and he shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

“Family?”

“No.”

Unfortunately, you were not taken aback by that answer. “Yeah, me neither,” you sighed. It wasn’t the whole truth, but the truth would erupt like a volcano. You needed to change the subject. “Where are you from?”

“Here, supposedly, but I went into foster care when I was six, and I don’t remember much from before that. Remember, I told you I inherited the house from a relative I didn’t know I had?”

You nodded, his missing person’s poster flashing past your mind’s eye.

“Yeah.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I aged out of the system. Been on my own, until now.”

“Until now?”

He gave you an honest look - the kind that makes you feel like they’re talking in directly into your mind. “Until you.”

* * *

 

It was nearly eleven o’clock when Georgie parked his car in front of his house and walked you over to your front door. You paused on your porch.

“Thanks, Georgie. I had a lot of fun.”

“Yeah?” Georgie rubbed the back of his neck, looking away towards his house. “Well, good, because I’ve got my fingers crossed for a second date.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” you assured him, now wholly unable to ignore the flutter of your heart.

He leaned forward and kissed you softly, innocently, on the lips. “Goodnight, [YN].”

He turned around to go, and you said without thinking, “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

Georgie stopped and looked back over his shoulder, smirking. “Yeah, I do.”

“Are you that good at reading people?”

“I am, and  _ you’re _ afraid of commitment.”

Your jaw dropped, and it took you a few seconds to believe what you’d heard. “How did you-”

“I told you; I’m that good at reading people. Goodnight, [YN].”

You dreamed about the clown again, that night.


	9. The Barrens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will our unlikely team of clown hunters find in The Barrens?

You had never been to the Barrens before. It was nothing like you expected. You had expected it to be...well...barren. It was anything but. The place before you looked like a lush sea, green and full of life, but the feeling it inspired felt heavy in your stomach like liquid iron, and the Barrens was a magnet, drawing you closer against your will.

At least you had Lexie with you. She made you feel safe. You only wished Georgie had come with you, but he had errands to run and was go meet you and Arianna there. Somehow, you managed to be the first to arrive, but you didn’t feel alone. And it wasn’t because of Lexie. It was because of the dreams.

Ever since your first date with Georgie, they had been back, and they were getting worse. Every night, it was a little bit closer, its voice a little bit louder. Every night, your heart was beating a little bit faster when you woke up. Then, there was the night before you went to meet Georgie and Arianna at the Barrens.

* * *

You dreamed you were in your house, in Emily’s room, sitting on the bed. You were holding a Barbie doll, combing through its hair with a plastic brush. A music box sat on the dresser across the room, chiming Twinkle Twinkle Little Star as a tiny ballerina spun gracefully en pointe. It was your music box - the only thing from your past that you brought with you to Derry.

There was a muted rap on your window, and you looked over to find the cause. A shadow moved behind the closed curtains. Setting the doll down on the bed by your side, you walked over to the window and peaked through the curtain. There he was - that goddamned clown.

You mind was flooded with fear, but there was a distinct disconnect between your mind and your body. When the clown smiled and waved, you pulled back the curtains and opened the window.

“Hi, [YN],” the clown said.

You tilt your head. “Who are you?”

“I’m Pennywise, the Dancing Clown! Do you want to come and play, [YN]?”

Before you could say anything, one gloved hand shot out and wrapped tightly around your throat, preventing you from making a sound. The other grabbed onto your wrist with painful force. The clown’s previously baby blue eyes glowed yellow as he opened his mouth, revealing rows of squaline teeth. You tried in vain to scream as he moved to wrap that vile mouth around your arm.

You woke up and sat straight up on your air mattress. Lexie was at your side, licking the cold sweat from your face. The late morning light bathed the room in warmth. You had slept in, but it felt as though you had barely blinked.

You shuffled out of your room and down the hall. Your heart nearly beat out of your chest as you opened the door to Emily’s room. There was no one there, of course. You took a deep breath and were about to close the door when you noticed your music box on the dresser.

You whipped around and slammed the door behind you. “What kind of Nightmare on Elm Street bullshit…?” you asked yourself, marching back to your room. You had to meet Georgie and Arianna at The Barrens. 

* * *

So there you were, waiting for your fellow clown hunters to arrive.

You had a name for it. Of course, it was just something your subconscious had worked up, but it had cemented itself in your brain. _Pennywise. Pennywise the Dancing Clown._ You shuddered.

You could still feel his gloved hand closing around your throat.

You gasped and whipped around at the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. It was only Georgie. He held his hands up as if you were pointing a gun at him.

“You okay, [YN]?” he asked.

You took a deep breath as he approached. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Georgie bent down to pet Lexie. “And how’s our little police dog doing, today?”

“I never told you she was a police dog.”

Georgie shrugged. “That good at reading people, remember?”

Your eyes narrowed and you accidentally raised your voice. “What do you know, Georgie?”

He looked up at you, pursing his lips and rolling his eyes in frustration. “A lot more about this town than you care to know about.”

“Try me.”

“Hi, guys!” Arianna’s voice joined the mix as she sped up on her bike. “Ready to go?”

* * *

Arianna plowed ahead, map in hand, barely watching where she was going, while you and Georgie followed a few yards behind with Lexie walking stoically between you. You waded through the tall grass, barely noticing where you were headed or where you were stepping. You were lost in thought.

“Georgie,” you said finally, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you, earlier.”

He smiled apologetically. “It’s okay. Do you want to tell me what’s got you so tense?”

_Pennywise the Dancing Clown._

“I think you know,” you said so softly it was almost a whisper.

Georgie sighed. “You dreamed about It, again.”

“Pennywise.” You bit your bottom lip. “He said his name was Pennywise.”

“ _Is_.” Once again, Arianna’s voice joined the conversation. You and Georgie looked up to see that she had stopped and turned around and was listening in to your conversation. “It’s still out there. It’s still taking kids.”

“It was just a dream, Arianna.” You shook your head.

She backtracked towards you. “But it wasn’t, [YN]. Don’t you get it? Most adults can’t even see it, but you’re dreaming about it. You can see it and you’re dreaming about it because it wants you to.”

“She’s right,” Georgie said, reaching over to you and gently rubbing your back. “You have to believe us, [YN]. We have to do this together. It’s the only way we’ll win.”

“Win? What are we winning?”

“Guys, that’s it!” Arianna said, interrupting your argument. You and Georgie followed her gaze to a large tunnel: The entrance to the sewer system.

Lexie’s fur fluffed around her neck and she let out a low, nervous growl. You placed a comforting hand on her head, but she shrugged you off and bolted, ripping the leash out of your hand.

“Lexie!” You took off running after her, only to be jerked back by a hand around your arm. It was Georgie’s.

“[YN], what the fuck? You can’t go in there!”

“Yes, I fucking can!” You struggled against his grip. “I’m not leaving her!”

“Just let me go get her.”

“So you can go and I can’t? She’s _my_ dog, Georgie!”

“[YN], you don’t- [YN]!”

You managed to wrench your arm away and run into the tunnel. Nasty water splashed around your sneakers, and your voice calling Lexie’s name echoed ominously around you. You could hear Georgie and Arianna calling after you, and while Arianna’s faded away, Georgie’s began to echo like yours. He had followed you into the tunnel. You could hear Lexie, too. Her snarls and barks sounded like a monster, lurking in the tunnels.

“[YN], you have to stop!” Georgie called, sounding more frustrated with every passing second. “I’m warning you!”

“Shut the fuck up, Georgie!” you called back over your shoulder.

And he did. In fact, though you hadn’t noticed the sound of his footsteps before, you noticed their sudden absence. You were at a crossroads, where the tunnels went in four directions, and the way you came from was dangerously still.

You turned around. “Georgie?”

Splashing to your left set your heart racing. You gasped and balled your fists, instinctively ready for a fight, but when you looked, it was only Lexie, dragging her leash through the muddy water a few yards down. Relief flooded over you.

“Lexie, oh my _god_. Don’t run off like that, girl.”

You took a step towards her, expecting her to come to you, but instead she got in a low stance, growling threateningly.

You knit your eyebrows. That wasn’t like her. She never growled at you. “L- Lexie?”

Several things happened in rapid succession.

One, Lexie started barking as if she was rabid and lunged in your direction.

Two, you gasped.

Three, your gasp was cut short by a gloved hand, wrapping around you from behind and grabbing your cheeks roughly.

Four, you were shoved into the tunnel wall.

Five, you tasted blood.

Six, you woke up.


	10. One, Two, Three, Four, Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened in The Barrens?

_ One, two, three, four, five, six. _

Georgie counted how long he could hold his breath, pacing back and forth in the waiting room. The air was cold and stagnant and sterile and did nothing to calm his nerves. Arianna sat in a chair by the door, looking guilty. Her parents were on their way, as were yours. Georgie was sure he was going to get an earful from Arianna’s parents. He didn’t care.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive. They were a good looking couple. Early forties, good health. Arianna was the spitting image of the two of them together.

“Arianna, what the hell is going on here?” her father asked in a booming voice.

She took a quiet breath and began to explain. “We were at the Barrens-”

“Who’s we?”

Arianna’s eyes fell on Georgie, and her parents followed her gaze to him. Georgie forced himself to stop pacing and plant his feet towards them.

Arianna cleared her throat. “Dad, this is George Denbrough, my friend from the library.”

Her father gave her a look that Georgie couldn’t see, but Arianna withered beneath it. “When you said you made friends at the library, I was assuming they’d be closer to your age.”

“I’m sorry,” Georgie said, butting in. All eyes turned to him. “I should have been in contact with you sooner.”

“And our daughter should have put us in contact with you sooner,” Arianna’s mother said, giving her another pointed look. “But that’s over, now. I’m Leticia Robertson, and this is my husband Mark.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Georgie said, looking at the floor, starting to fidget in place. Within just a few seconds, he was pacing again.

“So, does anyone want to tell us what’s going on?” Leticia asked.

“My, um…” Georgie began, entirely unsure of what to call you. “My friend, [YN] - her dog ran into the sewer - you know, there’s that big tunnel down there - and she ran after her and… hit her head on something.”

“And is this friend closer to  _ your _ age or Arianna’s, George?”

“Mine, ma’am.”

Mark sighed. “Well, I suppose our daughter is not your responsibility. We should be taking her home, and we’ll discuss this there.”

“But I want to stay and make sure [YN]’s okay!” Arianna argued.

“And I’d like to meet  _ both _ the grown-ass adults who have been hanging around my daughter,” Leticia added.

Georgie sat down in a chair across from Arianna. He ran his fingers through his hair nervously. “Well, you might be here a while. She’s out cold.”

* * *

A couple hours passed before you regained consciousness, but to you, it felt like the blink of an eye. One moment, you were in the tunnel. The next, there you were, in the emergency room.

You gasped awake and nearly sat up, but Georgie caught you by the shoulders.

“Hey, [YN], sh…” he whispered, and you were thankful for the low volume. Your head was killing you.

“Where’s my fucking dog?” you growled.

“With the police.”

Your eyes snapped open wide. “Why?”

“Because I couldn’t bring her into the fucking hospital, [YN]! Fuck, they only let  _ me _ back here like an hour ago.”

“How long have I been out?”

“They got you here two hours ago, so maybe… I don’t know… two and a half?”

“Jesus Christ,” you moaned, letting your head fall back on your pillow.

Georgie brushed your hair out of your face, and his voice softened again. “What happened, [YN]?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? What  _ did _ happen in that sewer? How much was a dream? Hell, did you even go to the Barrens, or was that a dream, too?”

“I don’t know,” you said finally. It was the closest you could get to the truth.

“You scared the fuck out of me,” Georgie murmured. “I thought I’d killed you.”

“What?”

He groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I’m the one who dragged you into all this business, convinced you to go to the Barrens. If anything happens to you, it’s on me.”

You shook your head, but he wasn’t paying attention.

“I found you and Lexie, and you were in the water, and there was blood…” He winced, then sighed, hiding his face again. “Arianna’s parents are here, they’d like to interrogate you.”

Oh shit -  _ Arianna’s parents. _ Why did you never think of them before? Of course, they’d be worried. And you were just the creeper adult who had been down in the woods with their kid. Well,  _ one of _ the creeper adults. At least you weren’t in it alone. Still, what would you say? “Hey, Mr. and Mrs.-”  _ Shit, _ you didn’t even know her last name.

That was bad enough. Nothing could have prepared you for what Georgie said next.

“The hospital called your parents. They’re on their way.”

“They  _ what!? _ ” You could hear your heart racing, blood rushing through your ears. Your world spun in anger and confusion and fear and  _ hurt. _

Georgie watched it all play out in your facial expressions. Finally, he said, “You told me you didn’t have any family, [YN].” It wasn’t accusatory; it was more like a question.

You clenched your teeth, trying not to let your feelings blow up and hurt Georgie. “You can hardly call us a family.”

You hoped you could go home and just not open the door when they arrived, but you had no such luck. The doctors wanted to keep you overnight for observation. You spent the next few hours shifting uncomfortably, dreading the arrival of the people who screwed you up so bad, you nearly had a panic attack when you were asked on a date. Being interrogated by Arianna’s parents was actually a welcome distraction. They were nice. Much nicer than you would have been in their situation.

“How are you feeling, [YN]?” Leticia asked you.

“I’ve been better,” you answered honestly.

“Look, you know why we’re here,” Mark said. “We’re worried about our daughter. You and Georgie are young. I’m not saying you meant any harm. You know you should have come to us much sooner, right? Even if Ari told you she had our permission?”

You nodded guiltily.

Mark and Leticia looked at each other, having a silent conversation.

It was Leticia who spoke next. “I need you to be honest with me, [YN], woman to woman.” She gave you a look that was so incredibly  _ real _ it could have melted your soul. “Do I have to worry about George around my daughter?”

You shook your head. “No. God, no. Georgie’s, like, the nicest person I’ve ever met. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Okay, then. I’m trusting you.”

When she saw your surprise at how quickly she’d relented, she sighed. “Arianna doesn’t have many friends her age, [YN],” she sighed. “She’s…” She and Mark looked at each other again. 

“We worry about her, always running around town by herself,” Mark finished for his wife. “I’d rather her be with a couple of strange grown-ups than no one at all.”

You swallowed hard. You were alone in those tunnels. You understood all too well.

“She wants to see you,” Mark told you. “We just wanted to talk to you first. She’s our only child. She’s everything we’ve got. You understand?”

You nodded.

They then traded places with their daughter, who skipped right over the niceties and went straight into “Did you see anything?”

“What?”

“In the tunnels, [YN]. Did you see anything unusual?”

You didn’t know what you’d seen. You didn’t know what was real. Technically, you hadn’t  _ seen _ anything, except…

“Lexie was after something, that’s for sure,” you admitted. “She saw something, I didn’t.”

That was enough for Arianna, whose parents wanted to take her home anyway. She traded places with Georgie, who had been listening in the doorway.

“You’re lying,” he said, staring you down.

“Georgie, I don’t think it was real,” you protested.

He gestured towards the bandages on your head. “This isn’t real enough for you, [YN]?”

He was frustrated with you, you could tell, but he didn’t leave you. You’d have to remember to thank him for that, later. He stayed with you until your parents arrived.


	11. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBH, this chapter is completely gratuitous and doesn't really further the plot at all, but I wanted to explain what's up with your parents, and this seemed like the best way to do it.

It was six o’clock, when your parents waltzed into your hospital room, ready to play Happy Family. Georgie, god bless him, was still with you. Not that your body language didn’t make it perfectly clear that you were nervous and didn’t want to be alone.

“[YN]!” your mother cried. “Are you okay, darling? What happened?” She sat down next to your bed and reached out to gently pet your forehead. You jumped at her touch, refusing eye contact.

“Come on, sweet cheeks,” your dad said, placing a hand on your mom’s shoulder. “We don’t hear from you for years, and then the first call we get is that you’re in the hospital?”

“I’m fine,” you spat out, making eye contact with Georgie, who reached out and grabbed your hand.

Your mom turned her attention to him. “Oh, and who are you, darling?”

“I’m [YN]’s…” He glanced at you, hesitating.

You both searched for the answer in each other’s eyes. What were you to each other?

“Boyfriend,” you finished, earning a smile from Georgie and a panicked beat or two from your heart. “Georgie, these are my parents.”

“Nice to meet you… Georgie, is it?” your mom said with a big smile. You wanted to gag. Georgie just nodded minutely, and your mom continued. “And how have you been, [YN]? It’s been so long.”

“Good,” you said, finally looking at her with venom in your eyes. “How’s Brad?”

The sudden tension in the air was palpable and oddly satisfying for you. Your mom and dad both frowned.

“I’m not with Brad anymore, sweetie. You’d know that, if you had bothered to stay in touch.”

At that, you frowned too. That bitch. Tore your family apart and didn’t even have the decency to stay with the guy. “I hope it was worth it,” you hissed.

“It’s water under the bridge, [YN],” your dad said firmly. “In fact…” he squeezed your mom’s shoulder and she looked back at him. They shared a smile that shot daggers through your heart.  _ The way things used to be… _

“Your mom and I are living together again!”

Your jaw dropped.

The way he’d said it like it was some happy surprise made your stomach turn. The way he’d said it like they could just turn back the clock made your eyes water. The fact that it was all a goddamn game to them, the way it always had been, made you want to explode.

“Is this some kind of fucking joke?” you growled.

“[YN]...” You mother shook her head, looking maddeningly confused. “We thought you would be happy. You were so upset by the divorce-”

“I was fifteen!” you shouted. “Yeah, I was fucking upset by the divorce. I was fucking upset when you-” You shot a look at your dad. “-banged your secretary, like, the day after. You weren’t even upset. You wouldn’t even comfort me because you said it wasn’t a big deal. Yeah, I was fucking upset.” You turned back to your mom. “But first, I was fucking upset when I walked in on you with someone who wasn’t my dad.”

“[YN]-”

“You told me people make mistakes. You told me you married the wrong person, and that fucking  _ Brad _ was the right person, and now you’re telling me it was all for nothing? You ripped me apart for nothing?”

If your head was killing you before, you were half dead, now. Tears were streaming down your face while your parents and Georgie watched you, mouths agape.

“Oh,” you laughed bitterly through the tears. “Did Brad ever find out about Stephen, Mom? Or is that why you broke up?”

“That’s enough!” your dad snapped.

“Yeah, I think it is enough,” Georgie snapped back, surprising you. He stood up to meet your dad eye-to-eye, except he was taller than your dad, as it turned out. “Obviously, [YN]’s hurt, and you’re not helping, so why don’t you just go.”

Your mom put on her “sassy” face. “Oh, and who’s supposed to take care of-”

“I will. I’m her boyfriend and her next door neighbor. I inherited a large estate, so I’m rich as fuck. I don’t have a job. I’ve got this.”

Your parents’ jaws hit the floor again as Georgie stared them down. Eventually, your dad patted your mom’s shoulder, and indicated for them to leave. You didn’t even try to hide the relief you felt as they made your way out of the room.

“One more thing,” Georgie said, as they reached the doorway. “It’s not that hard to find someone. If you didn’t know where [YN] was, it’s because you weren’t looking. Of course, here you are, now that she’s in the hospital. But it sounds like you two thrive on drama.”

The look of disgust on their faces made you proud, but Georgie wasn’t done.

“You should probably get out of Derry, though, if you know what’s good for you. People tend to go missing, here.”

You dad scoffed. “Is that a threat?”

“Yes.”

You don’t know what Georgie did, but your parents looked terrified, and your father quickly ushered you mother away. Georgie turned back to you, baby blue eyes looking sympathetically into yours.

“Are you okay?” he asked, brushing his thumb against your cheek.

You opened your mouth to say yes, but the floodgates opened as well, and you sobbed pathetically. Georgie did his best to hug you, though he was really just leaning over you in the hospital bed. You didn’t care. You wrapped your arms around him and cried.

Fuck your family. Fuck divorce. And while you’re at it, fuck this goddamn town and whatever’s in it.

When your tears finally subsided, you smiled sadly at Georgie. “You can go home. You don’t have to stay with me, all night.”

“I should get Lexie,” he said. He leaned in and kissed you on the forehead. He hesitated to pull away. “[YN], do you really think of me as your boyfriend?”

Your heart sped up again, though you were getting used to the feeling and starting to not hate it so much. “Was that okay? I mean, we’ve only been on one date, so I understand if you don’t-”

The rest of your sentence dissolved into static in your mind as he kissed you on the lips. It wasn’t quite like the kiss you shared on your porch after your first date; it was longer and a little harder and you liked it a little better.

“I’ll take care of Lexie, and I’ll be back to get you tomorrow,” Georgie promised. “Try to get some sleep. Don’t dream about any clowns.”

And you didn’t.


	12. Kayleigh

A week after your little incident at the Barrens, you were at work, trying to tune out the chatter. For some reason, this time, it had really stirred up some trouble.

Her name was Kayleigh Reynolds, and she was eight months old. That was all you knew, but it was enough. Fucking eight months old, disappeared from her crib. Never even got to have a birthday party. You had to tune it out to keep from losing it. The fact that this was just happening and no one seemed to do anything about it… The fact that whatever was causing all this trauma might have had its hands on you, down there in the sewer…

No. It didn’t. It couldn’t have. Could it? You definitely felt a shift, when you stopped hearing Georgie’s footsteps. That must have been when you conked out, and the rest was a dream. At least, that’s what you would tell yourself. You would keep telling yourself that for at least a few more weeks, until you couldn’t deny Its existence anymore.

Focus. You had to focus. This aquarist talk wasn’t going to give itself. Maybe you could get everyone’s mind off little Kayleigh’s disappearance for a while...including your own.

You turned on your microphone, which momentarily squealed with feedback, which at least had the effect of getting everyone’s attention. You cleared your throat awkwardly and put on your best presentational voice. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is [YN]. I’m one of the aquarists here at the new Derry Aquarium!” God, you sounded so fake, at least to yourself. You cleared your throat again, as if you could cough up the nerves. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the turtles swimming peacefully behind you. They calmed you a little. “Today, we’re going to be talking about sea turtle conservation.”

By that point, the small crowd had gathered into a semicircle around you, and your confidence was gaining.

“Here at the Derry Aquarium, we are home to two adult male loggerhead sea turtles. Loggerheads are just one of seven species of sea turtle that can be found worldwide. Unfortunately, all seven species are threatened or endangered, largely due to human activities. Marine debris, such as plastic bags, straws, and  balloons present what is perhaps the biggest threat to sea turtles…”

* * *

 

“That was an excellent chat, [YN],” your boss, Mark, congratulated you later, back in the break room. “But you didn’t have to be so negative on balloons. People like those.”

You chuckled. “Just because people like them doesn’t mean they’re worth killing sea turtles over.”

You sat down at the table, across from him. You hadn’t seen or heard much of Mark, since training. He was always in his office, while the rest of you were on the frontlines. The one or two times you had spoken to him, he’d made it clear that he was jealous. He hated being stuck behind a desk, it seemed.

“You’re a smart girl, [YN].” He patted your knee beneath the table. “You’re personable, pretty… I want to get you doing more aquarist talks, hm?”

He gave you a look that you couldn’t quite place, and you shifted a little, trying to soothe the odd feeling in your stomach when his hand lingered on your knee just a second too long. “I- I don’t mind giving the aquarist talks,” you said, standing up to get some water from the cooler in the corner. You were almost completely over the knee incident, until you realized he had followed you.

“I’ve just got one question, [YN],” he asked, leaning casually against the wall but effectively blocking you into the corner. His blue eyes wandered everywhere but your face. “What’s a girl like you doing working at a tiny aquarium in Derry, Maine?”

“A girl like me?” It was more of a statement than a question. A call-out.

He nodded once, finally meeting your eyes, but with a crooked smirk.

You folded your arms across your chest almost instinctively. “I like it,” you said firmly. “I love the ocean. I love the animals that live there.”

“The sharks especially, it seems. You like the dangerous animals?”

You shook your head, taking a drink of water and tapping your foot nervously as you glanced around the room, looking for an out. “I don’t think they’re dangerous. I mean, they are, but they have to eat, you know? They can’t help it.”

“Very true. Animals have instincts.”

He gave you a smile that made your stomach turn again, and you finally just pushed past him, out of the corner.

“I should be getting back to work,” you said without looking back.

“[YN].”

You reluctantly stopped and looked over your shoulder.

“I noticed that your car isn’t here, today. If you need a ride home-”

You cut him off with venom in your voice. “My boyfriend’s picking me up.”

He smirked again. “That baby-faced kid’s your boyfriend?”

“George,” you snapped. “That baby-faced kid’s name is George, and yes, he’s my boyfriend.”

You left without another word, staring at the teal floor as you power walked down the hall, trying to breathe the heat out of your flushed cheeks. When you finally looked up, you stopped dead in your tracks.

Down the hall in front of you was a red balloon, floating just at eye level.

* * *

“And it just floated there.”

Georgie gasped. “A balloon! Floating! Alert the authorities, [YN]. This is serious business.”

You playfully smacked his arm. “I’m telling you, Georgie, it was weird.”

“You’re weird,” he said, sitting down next to you on his his couch with a bowl of popcorn.

You and Lexie were spending the evening at 29 Neibolt Street with Georgie. The renovations were really coming along. The house looked gorgeous.

Georgie reached out to his laptop computer on the glass coffee table. “What do you want to watch?”

“Something mindless,” you sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder.

Georgie tossed a piece of popcorn to Lexie, who was laying by the fireplace. She lunged for it and caught it in the air.

You giggled. “You’re going to spoil her.”

“Good. She deserves to be spoiled.”

“Sometimes I think you like my dog more than me.”

“Yeah, I’m only dating you for Lexie. It’s no secret, really.” He turned his head to press a quick kiss against your forehead. “So what do you want to watch? Think fast, or I’m turning on a horror movie.”

“Will you protect me?”

“Hell, no! If Michael Myers busts in here, I’m taking Lexie and running for it. You’re on your own.”

You laughed as Georgie selected some horror flick you’d never heard of. Then he leaned back, grabbed a soft blanket off the back of the couch, and wrapped it around both of you. “I’m only kidding, [YN]. Of course, I’m going to protect you. Especially from those killer balloons.”

“You’d better,” you slurred through a mouthful of popcorn, cuddling up to Georgie as the movie began.


	13. Alon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're relationship with Georgie progresses, but a terrifying encounter will throw a wrench into everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I told my friend about this story and that the reader works at The Derry Aquarium, she immediately responded, "A-Derry-um."

“Oh my god.”

You stopped suddenly, planting the heels of your rain boots into the pavement, as if smacked in the face by the newest missing persons’ poster. Your knuckles went white around Lexie’s leash.

“What?” Georgie asked, looking at you in concern.

“That’s the guy from the animal shelter.”

_ Alon Smitt. 42 years old. Last seen July 1st, 2016 leaving the Derry Animal Shelter in a tan Ford Ranger, wearing denim jeans and a brown polo shirt. _

Georgie shrugged, causing tiny droplets of water to shake off the clear plastic umbrella he was holding. “You said he was an ass.”

“He was, but I didn’t want him to die.”

“He’s not dead, he’s missing,” came the familiar voice of Arianna, as she joined your lineup, kneeling down to pet Lexie. “Thought I might see you guys here.”

Georgie chuckled. “I think the whole town’s here, kiddo.”

You thought he could be right. People of all ages were gathered in Bassey Park for the 4th of July Fair, despite the drizzly weather.

God, it was only the 4th of July? You’d only been in Derry for a month, and already, you couldn’t imagine living somewhere else. You had a job you loved, a dog you loved even more, and a sweet boyfriend. You had even made good friends in your coworkers, with whom you had helped start a weekly tradition of going out for tacos every Tuesday night.

Sure, Derry kind of sucked, but it was home.

While Georgie and Arianna began a heated debate over popcorn versus kettle corn, your eyes were still glued to Alon’s poster. You were too afraid to voice the real reason it made your heart drop.

It was taking adults.

You glanced at Georgie, who looked absolutely adorable in his yellow raincoat and red boots that matched yours. Like a little boy. A child at heart.

_ Georgie Denbrough. 6 years old. Last seen October 3rd, 1988 wearing a yellow raincoat and- _

_ -red rain boots.  _ You shivered. Those words, which had been a blur in your vision of the poster, returned to you clear as day. You took Georgie’s hand and laced your fingers through his. Before this, you had never once considered losing him.

You looked at him and Arianna and Lexie. You could lose them. You could lose all of them.

* * *

“What’s bothering you?” Georgie asked, as you climbed the steps onto the front porch of 29 Neibolt Street. “You seemed tense at the fair, today.”

You waited silently as Georgie unlocked the door, and you didn’t answer until you were all safely inside with the door closed and Lexie was off her leash.

“I’m scared, Georgie,” you admitted then. “The thing that’s in this town...It…” You trailed off, not sure what to say.

Georgie gently took your chin between his thumb and his fingers and smiled sympathetically. “You’re cute, when you’re scared.” He kissed your nose.

You scoffed. “Thanks.”

He kissed your cheek, then your lips, then leaned his forehead against yours. “I love you, you know that?”

You could practically hear the record scratch. 

He  _ what?  _ Oh, God. Oh God oh God oh  _ God oh God oh God.  _ You breathing was rapidly escalating along with you heart rate. 

Georgie chuckled. “Damn. You’re  _ adorable _ , when you’re scared.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

He kissed you again, taking your bottom lip between his and wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you closer.

You were breaking out in a cold sweat, and your heart was still racing a thousand beats a minute, but you realized it wasn’t because Georgie had pulled out the L word.

It was because you loved him, too.

You knew because when you realized It was taking adults, your first thought was of him. You knew because you trusted him with Lexie. You knew because his smile made you feel invincible. You knew because his blue eyes had a way of hypnotizing you that was like nothing you’d ever experienced. You knew because his touch made your skin feel like fire, as his hands made their way underneath your shirt and dragged up your stomach.

You let out a soft gasp, breaking the kiss, leaving his voice husky and breathless.

“[YN], do you want to…?”

You nodded, still reeling from the events of the past sixty seconds.

Georgie kissed you again, but it was different, that time. It was tentative and a little nervous. You barely noticed. Your racing mind barely even registered the ascent of the creaky, old staircase. By the time you reached the bedroom, where the world came back into focus, neither you nor Georgie was wearing a shirt.

Your nerves attempted to kick back in. It had been a long time since you had… well. You know. And you suddenly felt yourself feeling exposed and self conscious. You hadn’t known this man long, but you loved him, and he said he loved you. Could you actually fall in love that fast? It sure felt like love to you, but what did you have to compare it to? Your idea of love was broken. Distorted. You wondered briefly if you were even capable of love. What if you got it wrong? What if you fucked this up? What if you and Georgie ended up just like…

But God, he was so good with you. Just the right combination of gentle and rough. He was everything you wanted. Everything you needed. You wanted him so bad. That’s what scared you the most of all.

Georgie ran his hand from your neck to your shoulder and down your arm. His breathing was quick and shallow. “You…” he said in a low voice like a dark whisper. “...are a beautiful human.”

And your mind went blank, as if all your worries and thoughts just hit a brick wall and you went right through. You took a deep breath as if you were tasting fresh air for the first time. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered how he did that. How was he able to silence your demons and your fears?

“You, too,” you said. “I love you, too.”

* * *

You woke up when the golden sunlight filtering through the windows became too much for your well-rested eyelids to block out. The windows looked like they were glowing.

God, you could get used to this. You could get used to this house. You could get used to this bed. You could get used to…

Georgie. You loved him. He loved you.

You could get used to that.

Thank god it was your day off, because you slept in. The sun was high in the sky, and Georgie was already up. You got out of bed and headed for the dresser figuring borrowing some of his clothes was better than traipsing around the house naked. You picked a plain, gray t-shirt out of the second drawer. Luckily, because he was a tol boi TM , his shirt fit you like a dress. A short dress, but a dress nonetheless. Long enough for you to go looking for him and Lexie.

You made your way down the stairs and found Lexie asleep on the couch, a sweet sight which brought a smile to your face. She was so comfortable here. So comfortable with Georgie. Such a good girl.

A faint sound of movement caught your attention. “Georgie?” No answer. You followed the sound down the hallway until you reached the door to the cellar. “Georgie?” you called again, but he didn’t hear you. You made your way down the stairs, scrunching your nose against the stale metallic smell. “Hey, you already had breakfast? If not, I could-”

Your heart didn’t just skip a beat. It stopped.

The clown looked exactly like it did in your dreams, right down to the last detail. It was hunched over by the well, like a predator standing over its prey, and… Oh, god, it  _ was. _

The metallic smell was not just the smell of the cellar, as you had assumed. It was blood. So much blood, pooled around the monsters feet, staining the front of his silk costume, and smeared across his mouth.

_ It’s just another nightmare. It’s just another nightmare. _ It certainly felt like one, with the icy, stabbing grip of fear holding you still and keeping you from screaming.

The monster turned, smoothly, inhumanly. His blue eyes turned yellow, when they met yours.

All of a sudden, your body remembered how to work. You drew in a burning breath and screamed hard enough to tear your soul apart. Then, you stumbled up the stairs, falling to your hands and knees in the main floor hallway and kicking the door closed behind you. Lexie was there, ears back, letting out snarls and barks to rival your screams. She may not have known what was down there, but she aimed to protect you.

You got to your feet and dashed down the hallway blind, as unwelcome tears clouded your vision, Lexie following at your heels.  _ It. You saw It. It’s real. _ You stopped screaming in favor of sucking in enough air to keep moving, but screamed again when you ran into something - No. Some _ one. _

“[YN]! [YN], shit, what’s wrong?”

You looked up and saw Georgie’s worried face, and you took a moment to sob with relief before fear took over you again. “The cellar, Georgie. It’s in the cellar it’s in the house we have to get out!”

“Hey. Shh.” He wrapped his arms around you. “Calm down. What’s in the cellar?”

“It!” you cried. “It, the clown, Pennywise, whatever the fuck- We have to get out of here! You can come stay with me.  _ Please, _ Georgie.”

Your pleading eyes met his sympathetic ones, but he only shook his head minutely, and your expression went blank.

“You don’t believe me.”

“[YN], there’s nothing in the cellar. Maybe you had another dream-”

“All the shit you and Ari gave me about not believing, and you don’t believe me!” You placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away. “I’m never coming back here. Lexie is never coming back here. I have half a mind to leave this whole fucking town.”

You grabbed Lexie’s collar and practically sprinted out the door. You didn’t stop until you were back in your own home, where you collapsed on the living room floor.

It hadn’t been a dream. It was real.  _ It _ was real. And Georgie didn’t believe you.

You curled your arms around your legs and sobbed into your knees. Everything was upside-down and inside-out, but one thing you knew.

If that thing hurt Georgie, you would kill it.

You would kill It.


	14. Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have one rule in your house, and Georgie breaks it.

Georgie did move in with you, a few weeks later. Perhaps it was your constant pestering and refusal to step - or let Lexie step - a single foot on his property. Much to your chagrin, he still spent a lot of his time over there while you were at work, but as the next few months went on, he began spending more and more time in your little house at 27 Neibolt Street, where you only had one rule: It did not exist. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” you said. Georgie frowned, when you said that.

 

October 28th, 2016.

 

“If you’re not feeling well, you shouldn’t go to work,” Georgie mumbled, shifting on the air mattress you still slept on because you were too poor to buy a bed and too stubborn to let Georgie pay for it. He wrapped his arms and legs around you. “See? Can’t go. Can’t.”

You smiled in spite of yourself. “If I’m not feeling well, you shouldn’t cuddle me. You’ll get sick, too.”

“Who cares? I’m just a bum ass who sits at home and plays with his girlfriend’s dog, all day.”

You chuckled at his assessment of himself, though it wasn’t entirely inaccurate. “Georgie, I’ve gotta get up. They need me at the aquarium.”

“But whyyyyy?”

You turned your head sideways to look at him, and the two of your shared a look.  _ Because we’re short staffed. Because no one has heard from Mark in a few days. Because, wish as we may, we all know he’s not coming back. But we have one rule in this house. _

Georgie reluctantly let you go, and you slowly moved your aching body off the mattress and over to your closet, where you changed into your uniform that by then smelled perpetually of fish.

“You look cute in that,” Georgie said.

“Yeah, and I smell like a lake smelt.” You closed the closet door and sat down on Georgie’s side of the mattress. You leaned down and gave him a goodbye kiss, like you did every morning.

He smirked. “What happened to not getting me sick?”

“You’re kind of obnoxious,” you said, standing and making your way towards the bedroom door. “Consider it your punishment.”

“Oh, we’re into  _ that, _ now?”

“Beep beep, Georgie.”

* * *

 

“That’s it,” Amy suddenly snapped while you were sharing a lunch break with her, Megan, and Tristan. “I’m calling the cops and reporting him missing.”

“Do you have to?” Megan joked, taking a sip of her Dr. Pepper.

“God, why do all you girls hate him so much?” Tristan asked. “Is he that bad?”

“Oh, he’s a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting-” You coughed. “-to happen.”

“Hi,” Amy spoke into her cell phone, stepping out into the hallway. “Yeah, I’d like to report a missing person.”

You sighed through another cough, and Tristan cast you a worried look. “You okay, [YN]?”

“Yeah, just a head cold,” you assured him.

Megan sat down across from you, next to Tristan. “Well, you’d better start feeling better so you can come to my Halloween party. It’s gonna be killer. You too, Tristan.”

Tristan just rolled his eyes. “Yay, drunk people in scary costumes.”

“Everyone in town comes, [YN].”

“Yeah, her parents are, like, fuckin’ rich. They’ve got this mansion. It-”

“-Practically fits the whole entire population of Derry,” Megan laughed. “I won’t lie, it gets kind of crazy, but- [YN]?”

You were half asleep on your hand, elbow resting on the table. “Uh?”

“C’mere, sweetie.” Tristan stood up and leaned across the table, laying the back of his hand across your forehead. “Oh, uh-uh, honey. I gotta get some hand sanitizer. You are burning up. Why are you even here?”

“I work here,” you mumbled, sniffling. Damn, this bug was hitting you hard, all of a sudden. The medicine you took before you left home must have been wearing off.

“Go home,” Megan commanded. “You’re sick.”

“Short staffed.”

Megan snapped her fingers in front of your face, beckoning you to look at her. “Go. The fuck. Home.”

* * *

You were slightly bewildered, as you pulled up to your house. You barely remembered the drive back. You were that out of it. You were definitely looking forward to a bath and your bed. You needed to snuggle up with Lexie and sleep for a long time.

You were dimly aware of Arianna’s bike laying in your yard, but your exhausted brain didn’t process her presence until you were in your house and you heard her voice. She and Georgie were at the kitchen table, which was covered in papers and books and Georgie’s laptop computer. Lexie was asleep by their feet. Whatever conversation they were having died upon your entry. Arianna smiled at you. Georgie looked like a deer in the headlights, and you were sure you did as well.

You had one goddamn rule.

Arianna stood and ran to you. “[YN], we have a problem. It should have gone back into hibernation by now.”

You stared at her blankly, and your words came out numb. “I’m sorry, Arianna. I’m really sick. I can’t process much of anything right now.”

Georgie joined you by the front door, Lexie at his heels. He placed a hand on Arianna’s shoulder. “Hey Ari, you should be getting home anyway, and I’ve gotta take care of [YN].”

The look you gave him when his eyes met your was positively venomous. “It took Mark.”

* * *

“Fuck you, Georgie.”

“[YN], please, just-”

“One fucking rule,” you snapped, rifling through your closet for something warm to wear with one hand and barely keeping your bath towel wrapped around you with the other. Your hands were shaking, you felt so fucking cold from the fever. “How long has this been going on behind my back?”

His silence told you everything you need to know.

“All along, huh? Fuck you, Georgie.  _ Fuck you. _ ”

Georgie sighed and flopped down on his back on the air mattress. “It’s important to Arianna. It’s important to me.”

“Oh yeah? You know what’s important to me?” You pulled on sweatpants and an old t-shirt. “My dog. And you, and Arianna, and my own damn life. That thing -  _ It _ \- is going to kill us.”

“It’s not going to kill us!” Georgie insisted, sitting up and fixing you with an intense look. “Not you, not me, not Arianna, not Lexie.”

“And just how the hell do you know that?”

He shook his head in frustration. “I… I’ve been doing a lot of research, [YN].”

“Oh, you have?” You folded your arms across your chest, still shivering. “Let me guess: In this house.”

Georgie stood back up. “Well, you don’t want me to go to  _ my _ house!” he shouted.

“God!” You covered your face with your hands as angry tears started welling up in your eyes. Angry and overwhelmed. You were tired, cold, sick, hurt, and scared. Scared as all hell. It always came back to that in Derry. No matter how long you could ignore it, no matter how hard you tried to escape it, it always came back to fear.

When you raised your eyes again to look at Georgie, he was looking at you, head tilted, eyebrows knit together, lips parted slightly. When you met his eyes, he scrunched his nose and looked away. 

“What?” you scoffed. “I thought I was cute when I was scared.”

Georgie looked back at you, and his lip twitched into a snarl for a split second before he stomped out of the room.


	15. Floating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Against Georgie's advice, you go to Megan's Halloween party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING. This chapter is quite possibly the most disturbing thing I've ever written, as it contains a relatively graphic depiction of a sexual assault. I will put a brief summary in the notes at the beginning of the next chapter, so you can skip this one if you need to. Take care of yourselves, lovelies. <3

“I don’t think you should go.”

“Look at all the fucks I give.”

Your relationship with Georgie was still on thin ice, since you discovered he and Arianna were still researching It, but you were trying to work it out. At least your sickness had cleared up enough for you to go to Megan’s Halloween party. You needed to go out and let loose. You were dressed in a skin-tight, red dress so short it could barely be considered a dress and a black cape. You’d done your makeup dark, with a black smokey eye and blood red lips. To top it all off, black platform heels.

Georgie held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not going to stop you, it’s just that I don’t trust the people in this town. And I hear this Halloween party gets pretty crazy.”

“You could come with me,” you reminded him, and he shrugged. He’d explained to you that Halloween wasn’t really his scene, and you didn’t fight him on it. You were picking your battles. “Well, how do I look?”

He offered you a weak smile. “You look beautiful, as always.”

“Uh-huh. And the truth?”

“Like a total slut, but I ain’t complaining.”

You rolled your eyes, letting yourself crack a smile. “Well, I’m heading out. You and Lexie be good.” You placed a quick kiss on Georgie’s mouth.

“Be careful,” he said, and you were on your way.

* * *

 

Tristan was right; Megan lived in a fucking mansion, and with the amount of people crammed inside, you reasoned that every resident of Derry over twenty-one years of age must be there. That is, except Georgie. Hell, even Tristan ended up coming, also dressed as a vampire. He smiled when he saw you and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“Giiirl,” he looked you up and down. “You be careful, now. If I batted for your team, I’d be all over you.”

You laughed. “Thanks, Tristan. George said I look like a slut.”

“Oh, you do,” he confirmed. “A very hot slut.”

That only made you laugh harder.

You spared a look around the large house. It was a modern-type mansion, all white and boxy. You were in the foyer area that also served as a living room with white leather couches. Metal stairs led up to a game room on the second floor, open to the first like a balcony. Off the game room on both sides were hallways lined with doors. Bedrooms, you reasoned.

“Hey.” An unfamiliar voice from behind you got your attention. You turned around to see two men around your age, typical frat-boy types, one with brown hair and one with blond. The blond, who was the slightly shorter of the two, wore a green flannel shirt and had a rubber werewolf mask tucked under his arm, while the one with brown hair had on a black t-shirt that boasted “This is my costume” in bold white letters. You smiled politely.

“You must be new,” the blond one said. “I think I’d remember, if I met you.”

You couldn’t help the flush that crept up on your cheeks. You needed to tell them you were taken, but you didn’t know how to say it without sounding like a bitch.

Luckily, Tristan took care of it for you. “Back of boys,” he said amiably. “She’s taken.” When the guys have him an odd look, he laughed and added, “Not by me, obviously! This is [YN]. She works with me at the aquarium. [YN], Brandon and Chad.”

Brandon was the blond, and seemingly the more forward of the two. He offered his hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said with a smirk, turning your hand when you offered it for a shake and kissing your knuckles. Your blush deepened.

“So,” Chad said. “You here with your boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

“Boyfriend.” You nearly sighed with relief, glad to get the words out. “And no, um… Halloween’s not really his thing.”

Not entirely a lie, but not entirely a truth. You didn’t feel like telling these complete strangers that your relationship was on the rocks, but judging by the sympathetic - or were they skeptical? - looks they gave you, they figured as much.

“His loss is our gain,” Brandon said, flashing a warm smile. “You want something to drink?”

An hour and a couple drinks later, your Halloween night seemed to be looking up. You and Brandon and Chad discussed everything from daytime television to sharks to Derry’s school district, and you were finding them to be pretty sweet guys. You finally ran into Megan, who stopped to engage you in a short conversation about the party before moving on to entertain other guests. Tristan got drunk of his ass and was dancing sloppily to The Monster Mash, which made you laugh harder than you had in a long time.

“[YN]...” Brandon began. Drink in one hand, he placed the other on your shoulder. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You frowned, trying not to think too much about the way his eyes flickered down for a moment before meeting yours again. “No,” you answered simply, pulling away. “I have a boyfriend, remember? I’m not that kind of girl.”

Brandon removed his hand from your shoulder and held it up in defeat. He and Chad shared a look, before something behind you caught their attention and they grinned over your shoulder.

“Oh my god, [YN], look,” Chad said.

You turned your head just in time to see Tristan fall on his drunk ass, and you laughed harder than you had ever.

That’s when your Halloween night began to head downhill.

It started with a little loss of balance. You had to grab the back of the couch to stay upright.

“Woah,” Chad laughed, moving to catch you. “Had a little much to drink, [YN]?”

You shook your head, as much to clear it as to answer no. “I’ve only had a couple drinks. I-... Excuse me.”

You went to get a drink of water. What on earth? You’d only had a couple drinks. Why was your world shifting and spinning?

With some effort, you made it back to Brandon and Chad, only to stumble again and spill your water.

“Come here, [YN],” Brandon said, gathering you into his arms.

“No…” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut against the spinning. You could barely feel Brandon’s arms around you. You felt like you were floating.

The loud music and sounds of the party sounded canned and eventually muffled as Brandon took you upstairs with Chad in tow. They took you down the hallway to the left and into one of the rooms, where they laid you on the bed and brushed your hair out of your face.

“[YN],” Chad said loudly, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

Your eyes were fluttering in a struggle to stay open. You didn’t know what was happening. You just wanted to go home.

“Dude,” Brandon laughed. “She’s totally out.”

_ I’ve only had a couple drinks. _

You felt numb all over. You could tell you were being touched, but you couldn’t make sense of it. It didn’t help that you couldn’t fucking see, between your eyes that were fighting to close and the kaleidoscopic view you got when you managed to keep them open. The feeling moved from your knees up your thighs, and your stomach turned.

“Stop,” you managed to say clearly, momentarily breaking through the veil that covered you, but it didn’t stop.

_ Drugged _ . You were fucking drugged. They fucking drugged you.

Your eyes finally won the fight to close, and you screamed as loud as you could in your head, but it was as if your body was no longer a part of you. For the time being, it wasn’t yours; it was a cruel captor forcing you to feel what you couldn’t control. The sensations were dull, but recognizable enough: Pressure and pain.

Eventually, after minutes that felt like hours, just as your head began to float with your body, a scream did make its way out into the airspace. You thought for a moment that it was yours. You didn’t get a chance to make sense of it before what remained of your senses dissipated into nothing.


	16. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up at the Neibolt house and come to a startling realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you skipped the last chapter, the basic summary is: The reader was drugged and assaulted at her friend's Halloween party, to which Georgie told her not to go. Thanks for reading, loves. <3

You woke up wondering if you’d been hit by a bus. Your head was pounding, your stomach turning, limbs aching, and every slight movement of your legs made you feel like you were sitting on broken glass. You felt hot and sticky and sick. The next thing you noticed was that you were no longer in Megan’s house, but it didn’t take you long to recognize where you were: 29 Neibolt Street, upstairs, Georgie’s room. Then, you noticed Georgie. He had brought a dining chair into the room and set it next to the bed, and that was where he currently sat, gently brushing your face with a cool, damp wash rag. His eyes were locked on yours, but he wasn’t looking at you. In his mind, he wasn’t even in that room with you. You could tell. Anger didn’t even begin to cover the emotion that stained his soft features. He was stone cold pissed, but someone who didn’t know him would have missed it. His expression was blank.

“I told you not to go,” he rasped, his voice completely wrecked.

You frowned. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes focused, and he was in the room with you. The muscles in his face relaxed and his lips parted slightly. “I didn’t mean-” He sighed. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I should have been there.”

His blue eyes watered, and you shook your head. Why was he so upset? You were fine. You were fine!

“Georgie-”

Whatever you meant to say was drowned out by a slap of nausea that suddenly flooded into your chest. Georgie - God bless him - was prepared, and with ninja-like reflexes produced a plastic trash can from beside his chair and brushed your hair back out of your face as your body expelled alcohol and acid and whatever the fuck those guys gave you. It burned like Hell, and every convulsion wracked your body with stabbing pain. You saw red, and by the time you came to, Georgie was helping you drink from a glass of water you hadn’t noticed before. The fit was like a whirlwind. You collapsed back onto the mountain of pillows behind your back. Georgie laid the back of his hand across your forehead, and you could tell by your cold sweat and sensitive skin that you were running a fever. You prayed to fall asleep. If you could just sleep it off...

“They’re dead, [YN].”

Welp, you were awake.

“What are you talking about?” you said, giving Georgie a side-eye.

He swallowed nervously and glanced downwards, away from your eyes. “Those two guys,” he hissed. “They-... They found them early this morning, practically disemboweled.”

“Disemb…” You blinked. “Oh my god, It.”

“[YN]-” Georgie sighed.

“ _ It _ . It did this, didn’t it?”

He shrugged. “Good for It!”

“How can you say that!?” you cried, sitting up all the way, too horrified to heed the pain and nausea that ripped through you. “Georgie, it’s a monster.”

“Excuse me, [YN],  _ who _ is the monster here? It saved you.”

You laughed bitterly. “Well, if I know my body, it was a little fucking late.”

Georgie’s eyes snapped closed and he covered his face. “Fuck…” He stood up and made his way over to the window from memory, never uncovering his face. The two of you sat in silence for a minute that felt like an hour.

You were okay. Two assholes at a party had done something unspeakable, but you were okay. Everything was okay. Everything was…

Georgie hugged himself and looked up at the sky through the window, the late morning sun making his blue eyes shine gold. “I am  _ so sorry. _ ”

Not okay.

Oh, God.

_ You were not okay. _

* * *

 

You knew you should have gone to the hospital, but the thought of anyone but Georgie putting their hands on you made you want to die, so you took a shower and cried until the water ran cold. It was too much. You’d been hurt, and you knew it was only going to get worse.

_ Samantha. _

_ Alon.  _

_ Mark. _

_ Brandon and Chad. _

Lexie couldn’t protect you from this.

With a hysterical sob, you ripped the shower curtain back and wrapped yourself in a towel. “Georgie?”

He was there in an instant, grabbing another towel off the shelf above the toilet and wrapping it around your shoulders. “Talk to me, [YN],” he said.

He couldn’t comfort you through this.

“It’s following me,” you said hollowly.

He sighed heavily. “[YN], no…”

“Every path I cross-” You were shaking, now. “It’s  _ there _ . It’s following me, and it’s picking off the people around me. Don’t you see it, Georgie? Don’t you see it?”

Georgie hugged you tightly. “It’s not going to hurt you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“If it wanted to hurt you… Why didn’t it, hm?”

As if you hadn’t thought of that.

“Georgie,” your voice was barely a whisper, “what do you know about It?”

His hold on you tightened. “Everything.”


	17. Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You come to terms with your new normal and answer perhaps the most important question of your life.

It took you months to return to normal. At least, the thin semblance of normal Derry was capable of stringing up in front of the truth. Derry wasn’t normal. Never had been, never would be. You could still see the darkness seeping in around the edges of the veil, threatening to snuff out the life of anyone who dared pay attention to the man behind the curtain.  _ Step right up, come one, come all, come see the truth behind the circus…  _ That’s all Derry was. A circus. And It was the ringmaster and the clown.

Each passing day, you tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in your gut that made you want to crawl into a hole and die. You didn’t want to admit that you were broken on Halloween and didn’t feel like you would ever be whole again. How could you be so stupid? Georgie told you not to go, said he didn’t trust the people in this town. This damn, fucking town. You were nothing but a casualty.

Eventually, you did find normalcy, or perhaps it was just monotony. To be honest, you didn’t really care. You woke up next to Georgie, slapped the snooze button on your blaring alarm, and wrapped your entire body around your dear boy for the next five minutes. When your alarm went off again, you would get up, get dressed in a swimsuit and your aquarium uniform, feed Lexie, and go to work. You’d spend your morning elbows deep in mushy fish carcasses, preparing the animals’ food. In the afternoon, you would wander the halls of the New! Derry Aquarium, watching the animals and answering guests’ questions. Then, you’d go home, have dinner, hang out with Georgie and Lexie, and go to sleep, only to start it all over the next day.

Sometimes, exciting things happened. On your days off, Georgie liked to take you places. “I like showing you off,” he would say with a smile, and you’d smile back, even though you hated being shown off. Ever since Halloween, you’d felt like everyone’s eyes were on you. It was like when you first came to Derry, when you were the new girl. Even the slowly (god, so slowly) fading discomfort became normal. Come December, you were enjoying normal.

Georgie just had to ruin it in four words blurted out in the middle of the fucking night.

You were as relaxed as you’d ever been, in that lilting, floating place between awake and asleep, where your moments from slipping below the surface, but the slightest noise will yank you up like a fish on a hook.

“Will you marry me?”

Oh yeah, you were definitely awake.

For a moment, you just stared at Lexie, asleep in her bed, before uttering a completely blank and emotionless, “What?”

“I asked if you would marry me.”

You rolled over to face Georgie, who was laying on his back but had his head turned to look at you. You mirrored him, but hell if you had any idea what to say. Georgie withered under your thousand-mile stare, and his voice wavered painfully when he spoke. “I know this seems sudden-”

“Seems?”

Georgie got up off the air mattress and started digging through the bag he kept at your house. When he turned back to you, he was holding a small, velvet box.

“I have been alone...for so long. For as long as I can remember. And then you came along, and I guess I’ve gone and gotten attached to you, and I don’t want to lose you. Ever. I don’t want to spend a single day away from you. [YN], I want to have family. I want to have everything I never had with you. And Lex. And I know it’s scary, but I love you, and I want to marry you… [YN]?”

You felt…

...funny.

Everything he said rang so true to you, too. You too had been alone, and you didn’t want to be alone anymore. That’s why you adopted Lexie. Hell, that’s why you came to Derry; to build a new life and a new normal with new friends, and you had done it. Was your normal exactly...well...normal? No. But no one’s normal was the same. Your parent’s normal had been tumultuous and adulterous. That wasn’t your normal. Not anymore. It wasn’t the normal you wanted, either. The normal you wanted was right in front you, and the only thing holding you back was…

...No. Not even fear. You weren’t afraid, and that’s what made you feel funny. You weren’t afraid anymore.

There was nothing holding you back.

“Will you marry me?” Georgie asked again.

“Yes.”

* * *

 

Arianna was the first one to notice the vintage ring on your finger, when she popped by your house the next day. No sooner had you opened the door than-

“Hey, [YN]- What is that?”

You were confused for a moment before you followed her gaze, then you grinned. “Three guesses, and the first two don’t count.”

“ _ Let me see!” _ she shrieked, grabbing at your hand.

Your ring consisted of three pearls, the largest in the middle, set in a delicate gold band. It was a little big for your finger, but you and Georgie planned to get it resized.

“[YN], it’s beautiful,” Arianna said, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you into a hug. “Have you set a date yet? What’s your dress going to look like?”

“Chill, Ari,” Georgie laughed, joining you in the doorway. “I just asked her at, like, midnight last night.”

“And you expect me to believe you weren’t thinking about it all night?”

“I was pretty tired, Ari,” you said, blushing. Truth be told, you hadn’t been thinking about much of anything aside from how goddamn  _ happy _ you were, like everything was falling into place.

Georgie nudged you. “How about June?”

June couldn’t come soon enough.

* * *

 

That night was bitterly cold, as is December in Maine, but clear and still. The snow banks sparkled in the starlight as you and Georgie - Your fiancé, George Denbrough, who you were gonna marry in June - walked through the empty streets hand on hand, bundled in layers upon layers and hats and scarves and boots. Where you were going, you didn’t know. “To make it Derry official,” Georgie told you with a smirk. You didn’t know what that meant, until you approached the old wooden bridge at the edge of the Barrens. Locals called it The Kissing Bridge.

You laughed. “You dork.”

“Gotta make it Derry official, babe.” Georgie winked, pulling a pocket knife out of his coat pocket, the white moonlight reflecting along the blade threateningly. You couldn’t help but shake your head.  _ You dork. _

Amidst the tangle of names and initials that littered the wooden walls inside the covered bridge, Georgie carved your first initial and followed it with a small vertical line. He handed you the blade. “Now you finish the plus and add mine.”

_ \+ G _

“There,” Georgie sighed contentedly as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. “Derry official.”

Everything was falling into place.

You’d forgotten how quickly things in Derry fell apart.


	18. Fall Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything you know is a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I wrote 17 chapters of backstory for this.
> 
> Prepare for this story to suddenly go in a completely different direction.

“I can’t believe it,” you said airily. “I’m getting married, tomorrow. I’m actually getting married. Married! Tomorrow! Jesus.” You laughed. “I just...never thought I’d actually do it, you know? Actually bite the bullet? But here we are, and I… I just couldn’t be happier! I love Georgie so much. More than anything else in the world, and I don’t know how that happened, because we’ve only known each other for a year, but I  _ know _ this is right. I know it, but I can’t believe it. I’m going to be [YN] Denbrough, and you…” You sighed and leaned your forehead on the glass. “Are a turtle. A fucking turtle! I’m talking to a sea turtle. About my wedding. My wedding that’s happening tomorrow. Oh my  _ god! _ ”

To your credit, the turtle was watching you, hovering in the water column and - you could swear - reading your mind with those soulful eyes. You never failed to wonder how reptiles, cold-blooded creatures, had such warm, soulful eyes. Warm, peaceful - kind of like the person you had become.

The last six months were a blur of work days and wedding planning. Some days were so stressful, they drove you to tears. You often had to remind yourself that it would be worth it. You were going to have a family. You would never have to be alone, again.

And it wasn’t just Georgie. You were finally feeling like a true citizen of Derry. Your coworkers had been with you, every step of the way. Arianna and her parents practically took on the role of your family. You had gotten to know the priest in town who would be officiating your ceremony.

You wondered how you ever could have felt like you didn’t belong there.

As with many horrible things in life, everything changed with a phone call.

The aquarium had just closed, but your shift lasted another hour. You, along with Beth, were scheduled to close everything down. That’s when you got the phone call.

You answered it automatically and with a smile on your face and in your voice. “Hey, babe.”

Georgie’s voice greeted you...but it didn’t. He didn’t greet you. “Come home,” was all he said, and it was cold and brusque.

“Georgie?”

“Georgie’s dead.”

You shook your head.  _ What the fuck? _   “Georgie, I know your voice. You’re not dead; you’re talking to me. What the hell is going on?”

You heard him sigh impatiently, exasperatedly, perhaps even angrily. “George Denbrough died on October 3rd, 1988.”

Your blood ran cold. There were only two options, here: One, your fiancé had lost his mind. Two, he was telling the truth, and you didn’t know what to think of that.

“If Georgie’s dead, who are you?” you questioned, still skeptical.

There was a moment of silence, and when Georgie spoke again, his voice was softer. He sounded vulnerable. “Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

Another pause.

“No matter what, you will never doubt that I love you.”

“Georgie-”

“Come. Home. [YN].”

A click and a dial tone.

* * *

 

You drove home like a bat out of hell, feeling sick to your stomach, struggling to rationalize.

So what if he wasn’t George Denbrough? There’s nothing in a name, anyway. You loved him, and he loved you. That was all that mattered.

But why would he take some dead kid’s name?

You felt stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He’d given you a story about growing up in foster care, that he didn’t remember anything from before he was six, then a missing person’s poster shows up with his name on it, and you didn’t even think to ask questions.

But it didn’t matter. You loved him. He loved you. You loved him. He loved you. You would never doubt that he loved you.

You pulled your car into the driveway and parked it, but couldn’t bring yourself to move. You were supposed to be getting married tomorrow, and now Georgie - or whoever the hell he is - was having some sort of meltdown?

Oh, how quickly things in Derry fell apart.

You resolved not to let it get to you. Not yet. Maybe this was some sort of prank. Some sort of a final grasp at boyhood in lieu of a bachelor party. You had to convince yourself that your Georgie would be waiting for you on the other side of that front door to will your hand to open the car door, to will your legs to step out and walk up to your house.

And then there was the elephant in the yard. The goddamn red balloon tied to your mailbox.

Your hands shook as you tried to unlock your front door, so much so that you dropped your keys twice before you finally managed to insert the key and turn the lock. As your hand settled on the handle, the icy feeling in your stomach became almost unbearable. You felt like a child, about to jump off the high diving board for the first time.

Like ripping off a bandage, you tore the door open and spun around it, slamming it closed with both hands.

You stared at the door, breathing heavily. Behind you, you felt a familiar presence waiting for you to face him.

You turned.

You faced him.

You faced  _ It. _

The thing behind you was not Georgie.

“ _ Hiii _ -ya, [Y- _ N]. _ ”


	19. Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clown is in your house, and your dog is outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the real fun begins. >:) Clown dick estimated to arrive in Chapter 21. Thank y'all so much for sticking with me! Your support means the world.

You grabbed helplessly at the door handle behind you, only to hear it lock. In vain, you tried to wrench it open. It wouldn’t budge. Fuck.

“What have you done to Georgie?” you managed to squeak out, though you sounded much less intimidating and much more pathetic than you had hoped. You cowered under the gaze of this… God, what  _ is _ it? It’s not a clown. Not really. It  _ looks _ like a clown, but it’s so much more. What had Arianna and Georgie called it? Dead...lights?

Oh, fuck, Georgie.

The clown tilted his head like a confused pup. The move was so not human; it was jerky and mechanical, like he didn’t really know what he was doing. You noticed when his eyes snapped to yours that he hadn’t been looking at you, but now he was, but his gaze was soft. Disarming. Confusing.

“Geor-gie?” He shook his head. “No, nonono, my little [YN]. Georgie’s dead. For a very long time now, dead.” He smiled, as if reliving a fond memory. Your stomach turned when you realized he  _ was. _ “Delicious. Tasty, tasty, little boy.”

“No…” You shook your head, pressing your back against the wall to keep from collapsing as you slowly lowered yourself to the ground. “I saw him this morning. You’re lying. You’re  _ lying _ .”

The clown tilted his head the other way. “Ohoho, on the contrary, [YN]. I believe this is the first time I am telling you the  _ truth. _ ”

You shook your head again, more frantically now, as tears began to spill over onto your cheeks. “No…”

Mercifully not moving any closer, the clown crouched down to your level. “What did I do to Georgie?” he rasped.  _ “What did I do to Georgie? _ [YN], I  _ created _ him.”

You finally understood why Its eyes looked so familiar to you, in your dreams.

The dam broke loose, and water flooded your eyes and face. It made sense. God, you desperately didn’t want it to make sense, but it made so much fucking sense. Every time you encountered It, Georgie was there, but he wasn’t there. You never saw them both at the same time. Georgie knew everything about It. And those  _ eyes. _

When you glanced back up, It hadn’t moved.

“What do you want from me?” you whispered through your tears.

Again, you were answered with a maddeningly innocent stare. “No,” he said, and to your complete surprise, he sounded a little hurt. “You promised, [YN].”

You promised?

_ No matter what, you will never doubt that I love you. _

The sudden sensation of vertigo clouded your vision, so much that you had to close your eyes and hold your head in your hands. “Where’s my dog?” you murmured. “Fuck you. Fuck everything. Where’s my dog?”

“In the backyard.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking-...”

It was so simple, so matter-of-fact,  _ so something Georgie would have said _ . Your fiancé never existed, his namesake was eaten by an eldritch abomination disguised as a plucky circus clown back in 1988, and said eldritch abomination disguised as a plucky circus clown was now crouched in your entry looking like a kicked puppy, and your dog was in the backyard.

This time, when you glanced back up, he had crawled closer, and the sudden proximity to the clown - monster - clown - demon? -  _ monster _ tore a horrified scream from your lungs.

His reaction was so startlingly not what you expected that you almost screamed again. He  _ flinched _ , like an injured animal, like your scream startled  _ him. _

He reached towards you, and you closed your eyes and let him, because you didn’t have anything left in you.

“Sh…” he cooed, gently brushing his remarkably (oddly) soft gloves against your cheek in what could almost be called a comforting gesture. “You don’t need to be afraid. I don’t want  _ you _ to be afraid.”

You were flabbergasted, gobsmacked, bamboozled and utterly black bean burritoed.

It…

The Curse of Derry…

The very thing that you’d be running and hiding from and dreading for the last year…

...was in your house, on your floor, petting you, and trying to make you feel better.

And your dog was outside.

Pennywise leaned in and spoke softly in your ear. “Georgie will be at the church tomorrow, exactly how you planned. If you don’t come…” He hesitated, and you steeled yourself for unspeakable threats that never came. “I will not come after you. No harm will come to you or anyone you love. You will never see me again.”

And just like that, he was gone. No, he was never there. It was like waking up from a dream, when you suddenly realize none of it was real. As a matter of fact, might have thought it not real, were it not for the red balloon that took the creature’s place by your side.

Fuck.

Oh,  _ fuck. _

What had you done?


	20. Commitment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you're really an idiot.

It was a dream. Wasn’t it? It had to have been a dream. You’d spent the better part of that morning, as well as the previous evening, trying to convince yourself of that.

You had given up trying to convince yourself that It wasn’t real. That ship had sailed long ago. It was real. That was a fact in Derry, more steadfast and true than the sun rising in the East. The question - your question - was  _ were you about to marry It? _

“Is something wrong, [YN]?” Leticia Robertson’s voice startled you. You were suddenly brought back to reality, where you were in Arianna’s house, standing in front of a full length mirror in your wedding dress.

Holy fuck.

The Robertsons were good people. They’d been more than gracious to you and...the man they thought was George Denbrough. The man you thought was your Georgie. And just like that, your eyes welled up with tears. Thank god you went with the waterproof makeup.

“I’m scared,” you managed to breathe out weakly.

“Oh, sweetie.” Letitia took your hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “Look at me, [YN].”

You reluctantly turned your eyes to the woman. In that moment, she was so much stronger than you. She was confident. She was secure. She had a husband and an amazing daughter who you had come to love like a sister. A family. She had everything you wanted.

“Do you love Georgie?” she asked.

The first tear fell. “More than anything.”

“Then there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You sniffed, blinking more tears away. “But what if he doesn’t love me?”

Leticia scoffed and returned to her task of lacing the back of your dress. It was almost rude. “[YN], [YN], [YN],” she tutted. “I didn’t take you for an idiot, but you must be blind or stupid if you think Georgie doesn’t love you. The boy looks at you like you’ve got the whole universe in your eyes. You changed his life, and correct me if I’m wrong, but I think he changed yours.”

Ha.

_ (Fuck) _

“You have no idea.”

* * *

 

You had one last chance to turn away, and it was in that moment, staring at the church doors that would seal your fate. You could leave. Be a runaway bride. It would not come after you. No harm would come to you or anyone you loved. You would never see it again. Or so it said.

It also said Georgie would be there, at the church, just like you planned. Your mind was screaming that  _ Georgie wasn’t real and you were making the biggest mistake of your life. _ Perhaps you were. You still needed to see him.

Besides, perhaps it was a dream.

You half expected him not to be there, after all, when the doors opened, and the organ blared, and everyone stood. Jesus Christ, why did you decide to have a traditional wedding? You felt like you were going to faint.

But he was here.  _ He  _ was there. Georgie. Your Georgie. Not It or Pennywise the Dancing Clown or whatever the hell might be hiding behind those pretty blue eyes. For now, in that moment, your Georgie was there, and fuck, you needed your Georgie.

He looked genuinely surprised to see you.

_ You can do this [YN]. Just walk. That’s it. One foot in front of the other. Right, left, right left. _

You reached the altar and took your fiancé’s hands. For a moment, his eyes turned yellow, but he blinked it away like one would blink away tears.

_ I’m marrying a monster _ .

“George Denbrough, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?”

“I do.”

“[YN] [LN], do you take this man…”

_ I’m marrying a monster. _

_ For better or worse. _

_ For richer or poorer. _

_ In sickness and in health. _

_ Until death… _

“I do.”

* * *

 

You had one rule in your house. It was for that reason that you and your  _ husband _ (fuck, fuck,  _ fuck) _ returned to 29 Neibolt Street after your brief, pleasant wedding reception. You slammed the door closed and marched upstairs. You were not speaking until you were wearing something more comfortable. Something you could fight in. You settled on one of Georgie’s t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants, both of which swallowed you, which was great. You wanted to be swallowed.

You knew  _ he _ was standing in the doorway to the bedroom. The creaky wooden floors in that goddamn house would have betrayed a ghost’s location. “What’s your game?” you snapped, whipping around with a look on your face like you wanted to melt something.-

Georgie looked bewildered. “What?”

“First of all, drop the act. I’m not talking to  _ you _ in there. Pennywise. Whatever.”

Georgie sighed. “Turn around.”

“Why?”

You yelped and whirled around when a white-gloved hand tapped your shoulder. The clown stood behind you. When you looked back over your shoulder, Georgie was gone, and all of a sudden, you didn’t feel so confident. “Why are you doing this?” you asked Pennywise. “Don’t lie to me. I’m your fucking wife. Are you going to kill me? Eat me?”

“I was,” Pennywise grumbled, suddenly very interested in the pom-poms on the toes of his boots.

You laughed shrilly. “Well, then go for it. I’ve got nothing to live for, and I’m fucking terrified. That’s what you feed on, right? Fear?”

“I don’t like the smell of your fear.”

Something inside you snapped, and every twisted emotion you were feeling was replaced with aching, Earth-shattering anger. “What? My fear isn’t  _ good enough for you? _ ” you screamed, pushing against Pennywise’s shoulders. He didn’t budge, and he didn’t look at you, which only served to make you angrier. “Why did you do this? Why did you pretend to be human? Why did you marry me?”

“I had to expose you to your worst fear.”

“Oh, and what, pray tell, is my worst fear?”

“Commitment.”

That single word knocked the wind out of you, and you basked in the silence for a moment before speaking, slowly and steadily as if reciting a pledge. “So you made me fall in love with you. Made me commit to you. Built me up and tore me down and now you don’t even have the decency to finish what you started.”

“I didn’t mean to love you.”

You scoffed. “You don’t love me.”

His head snapped up, and his eyes locked on to yours. They were bright red. “You promised.”

“You lied to me.”

“You  _ promised me. _ ”

“All you’ve  _ ever _ done is lie to me!”

Before you knew what hit you, the clown grabbed you by the throat and pulled you towards him. He snarled, and you desperately clawed at the hand that was cutting off your air supply and keeping you from screaming.

“You. Promised. Me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, I have caught up with myself. Updates may be a little slower, because of that and another reader who needs to have some more fun with her "imaginary" friend...
> 
> Most importantly, thank y'all SO MUCH for all your love and support and patience. I may not reply to every comment, just because I'm in an occupational school and barely have time to breathe (but graduating in three weeks! What up!), but I read every single one. Y'all are so sweet. #blessed
> 
> Fingers crossed for Chapter 21 to be done soon! I believe I owe you darlings some clown fuckery. ;)


	21. Promised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What have you done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over the past month, I have graduated from occupational school, moved out to a farm, adopted a cat and a new puppy, and written this chapter! Took me long enough, didn’t it? On the bright side, it’s the longest chapter so far!
> 
> ALL the thanks to Teratist for practically writing this chapter while I was busy freaking out because it haD TO BE PERFECT. She’s the best.
> 
> Welp, we’ve finally made it. Enjoy your clown porn, sinners.

_ You will never doubt that I love you. _

“Why is it so important to you-” You struggled to force air through your vocal chords, with Pennywise’s hands still locked firmly around your throat. “-that I believe you love me?”

“I married you, didn’t I?”

He released your throat, looking hurt. You didn’t buy into the ruse, knowing you could never hurt him. You didn’t even know if this creature could  _ feel _ , let alone love. Why, then, did you feel a pang of guilt in your heart?

His gloved hands brushed against your cheeks before sliding back into your hair. He pulled you into a bruising kiss.

With your eyes closed and your lips against his, you fell into the familiarity. Those were the same lips you had kissed goodbye before going to work, just the previous day, before you knew…

The fact of the matter was that you had been with It for nearly a year. Your lips worked against each other’s expertly, as if you were made for each other. His fingers tangled in your hair while yours tangled in the lacy ruffles around his neck. You both knew exactly what to do.

It was your wedding night, after all.

You broke the kiss and growled, “Just do it.”

Pennywise tilted his head in confusion, and you felt a sort of reckless, senseless anger flood from your heart to your fingertips and everywhere else. You were shaking, and hot tears began to spill down your cheeks. “Whatever you fucking want!” you shouted. “Have your goddamn way with me. I don’t care. Why the hell should I?”

_ It was your wedding night, after all. _

“You’ve taken everything from me. Might as well take me. Make me forget.  _ Fuck me. _ ”

It took about zero-point-twenty-seven seconds for two things to happen; Pennywise’s eyes flashed and glowed red, and you realized you may have made a mistake.

Your back hit the wall before you registered the movement. Your head felt numb for a moment, then it filled with searing pain as your vision cleared. You were facing the opposite direction you had been a second ago, and you were very much trapped between a clown and a hard place. Pennywise’s claws had broken through his white gloves and were fisted in the fabric in front of your shoulders. You could feel them barely touching your skin, and when he tore the shirt to shreds, they left thin, angry marks and beads of blood in their wake. You gasped at the sudden sting, and at the same time, Pennywise jerked you forward, wrapping his long arms around you. The claws of his right hand dug into the back of your left shoulder, while those of his left dug into the right side of your waist, creating ten deep punctures you were certain would disgrace your skin for the rest of your natural life. Your heart was beating so fast that you couldn’t distinguish one beat from another. Your blood felt hot inside your veins and ice cold on your skin. You shivered as it ran down your burning body like raindrops on a window pane.

Pennywise growled in your ear, a sound so dark and satanic you could practically feel the heat of hell within it. “ _ I. Love. You. _ ”

You buried your face in the ruff around his neck and tried to block everything out, to dissociate, to suffocate yourself if that’s what it took. Anything to ignore his hands on your body and his his claws in your skin and his voice in your head. Anything to ignore the way he played your body like a finely tuned instrument and set your soul on fire the way no one ever had.  _ Anything  _ to ignore the fact that you  _ liked it. _

A sick and twisted feeling settled in your stomach as you wished for a moment that you had been drugged, this time...but you had consented to this time. You had wanted it,  _ begged _ for it,  _ demanded _ it.

You could revoke your consent just as easily.

You decided not to waste your breath.

_ What have I done? _

Pennywise smelled of blood and burnt sugar, sharp and stale and a little bit intoxicating. You inhaled deeply through your nose, becoming addicted to the scent the way one becomes addicted to poking an especially painful bruise. It was rancid, and it was real, and…

_ What have I done? _

One of his feet found its way between yours as one of his hands found its way into your hair. His arm around your waist tightened, forcing you to grind against him. You bit down on his ruffled collar to stifle the moan that threatened to betray you as much as your body already was.

Pain shot down your spine as Pennywise jerked your head back by your hair. You found yourself looking at the ceiling, mouth open in a gasp, moisture gathering in your tear ducts. Pennywise took advantage of your open mouth and plunged his tongue down your throat. His taste was both foreign and familiar, like returning to a childhood home long since sold and redecorated. It was yours, but it wasn’t. Not anymore.

Your let your eyes flutter closed and your tongue intertwine with his, melting into him as if caught halfway through a faint. Tears spilled on to your cheeks. As disgusted as you were by this creature, that was nothing compared to how disgusted, scandalized,  _ revolted _ you were by the broken creature that was letting him fuck her. Oh, god, that had  _ married him. _

_ What have I done? _

With the hand that wasn’t tangled in your hair, Pennywise clawed at your thigh, ripping the sweatpants you were wearing and leaving four deep, clean gashes, so perfect they might have been made by a razorblade. Blood poured down your leg, which buckled beneath you as you cried out in pain. You crashed to your knees. The moment you hit the floor, the world went white hot. One hand gripped your torn thigh in an instinctual attempt to stop the bleeding; the other slapped over your mouth, stifling your wounded sobs.

Pennywise caught your chin between his thumb and index finger and forced you to look up at him. You knew that he was tall. Georgie was tall. But somehow, in roughly the same dimensions, Pennywise managed to be larger than life. And you? Well, you were nothing but his marionette, weren’t you?

You whimpered pitifully, and the clown gave you a look you couldn’t quite place. You could only imagine you looked like all hell, covered in gashes and blood, makeup presumably running down your cheeks. You could only imagine the sadistic fuck staring down at you loved it.

Your body only grew hotter as you stared up at your puppet master, waiting for him to pull your strings. You expected a slap, or another scratch, or perhaps more hair pulling. None came. That bastard. Instead he caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. “You promised me,” he murmured. “Promised, promised, promised…”

You sucked in air through your gritted teeth. “And you’re a paragon of trustworthiness, aren’t you,  _ Pennywise? _ ” You spat his name like a curse.

He took three calculated steps backwards and a little to the side, bending slightly at the waist to loom over you like the monster he truly was. “Get in bed, [YN].”

A firm “no” tingled on your lips, but what little sense of self-preservation you had remaining worried what would become of your if you defied your all-powerful  _ husband. _ You had to brace yourself against the wall to stand putting all your weight on your uninjured leg. Pennywise watched you limp to the bed like a predator selecting the weakest animal in the herd to hunt. Then again, wasn’t he? Hadn’t he done just that? He could have gone after any woman in Derry. You were the weakest target. You had a fear he could exploit. And now, a body he could use. The thought made your stomach twist, and not in a bad way. And that made your stomach twist in a bad way. All the faces you had seen on posters materialized in your mind’s eye: Samantha, Kayleigh, Mark... “How could you do this, [YN]?” they lip-synced. Their mouths all moved, but the voice was yours. “How could you do this? What have you done?”

You cried out in relief when you were finally able to collapse onto the mattress. If he let you, you could have fallen asleep in seconds from the exhaustion. That wasn’t in the cards you had drawn for yourself. Instead, you inched your way up to the pillows, burying your burning face in them. You could barely hear fabric rustling and dropping to the floor over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, which quickened when you felt sharp fingers wrap around your waist, easing the torn and bloodstained sweatpants over your legs. You gripped the pillow tighter in your hands as you felt the mattress dip down on either side of you. Your skin broke out in goosebumps when you felt his breath on the back of your neck.

He leaned his head against your shoulder, and you squeezed the pillow so tight you thought it might tear ( _ like your skin beneath his hands, like your heart within his care _ ). “Beautiful human,” he breathed, voice deep and husky with what you  _ refused  _ to believe was anything close or related to affection. What could this creature possibly love about you? And yet, the words that followed were, “I love you.  _ I love you. _ ”

He placed his hands firmly on your hips and moved your body for you, and you let him. You let that creature manhandle you like a rag doll, molding you like a clay figurine until you were on your knees with your thighs spread wide. He placed a clawed hand between your shoulder blades and ran it down your back, and you bit your tongue. You had time for one last thought of

_ What have I done? _

before he took you, dragging a languorous moan out of your lungs without your permission.

Every thrust felt like a bolt of lightning, radiating from your core to your fingertips. The sensation was so intense it fucking  _ hurt _ . This wasn’t human. This was animalistic and vile and  _ out of this fucking world _ . His claws were on your waist, holding you still, drawing the tiniest scratches every time his hips slammed against you. You groaned as you melted into the mattress, giving in and letting it happen.

_ I deserve it. I deserve all of this. I deserve- _

He leaned forward, draping his body over yours, fisting a clawed hand in your hair and growling like a guard dog. “My wife. My human. Pennywise’s.  _ beautiful _ .  _ human _ .”

He pulled your head back, and you gasped for air as the slight change in position sent you careening over the edge. You hadn’t realized how deprived of oxygen you had become, with your face buried in the pillow. You hadn’t realized much of anything besides how wonderfully terrible and terribly wonderful it felt to finally let this creature take you, mind, body, and soul. It had been a long time coming, hadn’t it?

Your moans of pleasure turned into sobs as you came down from your first orgasm, already feeling another one building as Pennywise continued to fuck you. It was too bad and too good and too much. You wanted to scream and cry. You wanted...to die. You wanted your husband to kill you.

He didn’t, but for a moment, you thought he was going to, as he sank his teeth into the back of your neck. His growls, which had been fairly low and consistent, raised in pitch. He clamped his hands down over yours hard enough to bruise. Something inside of you, deep and instinctual, told you he had lost control. This creature was no longer thinking. You were in serious, life threatening danger. You didn’t care. You were struggling to keep your eyes open, and whether it was from plain exhaustion or blood loss, you could feel yourself begin to drift, to float, to fall.

_ If I’m lucky,  _ you thought,  _ I just won’t wake up. _

* * *

You did wake up, and you woke up to searing pain in your thigh. It felt like your goddamn leg was melting off. You screamed and grabbed for anything you could hold onto, but you found nothing but smooth edges. It took about thirty seconds for your vision to clear and for you to realize you were in the bathtub, covered in drying blood, slick between your legs.

_ Oh god, what have I done? What have I  _ done?

“Shh…” a voice - you’d have known whose, if you’d had your wits about you - cooed. A gloved hand ran up and down your back. “You’re hurt. I hurt you.”

Your hair was plastered against your forehead by sweat, and the air stank of metal ( _ blood _ ) and rubbing alcohol. You managed a glance over your shoulder just as Pennywise pressed a clean cloth firmly against the gashes on your thigh. You groaned and let your head fall back down, feeling bile rise in your throat. Every inch of you was torn, scarred,  _ marked _ . And maybe that was the point. You would never forget to whom - or what - you belonged.

You wondered briefly where Pennywise learned to clean and dress wounds. No, it wasn’t hospital quality, but it was good. As good or better than you could have done. But then, he had existed for thousands, maybe even millions, hell, maybe even  _ billions _ of years. You weren’t dealing with a dumb animal. Pennywise was no slave to instinct. No, he was smart, clever, creative, intelligent. Gentle. He had been rough, all teeth and claws and pain, but now he was gentle. “Hold my hand,” he murmured in a voice that was almost human. You didn’t, but you didn’t fight back when he took your hand in his. He poured something over your neck where he had bitten you, and-

It was rubbing alcohol.

“Fuck!” you screamed, hand clenching shut so tight you would have snapped the fingers of any mere, mortal man. Your eyes filled up with water, either from the pain or the chemical fumes so near to your face. Your sinuses would be clear for months.

The pain subsided, Pennywise began dressing the wound on your neck, and your tears began to flow. You curled into something like fetal position, as much as you could in the antique bathtub, and cried out loud like a little kid. You wanted to stop, but you didn’t have the energy. You didn’t have the energy to live anymore. “I just want my dog. Where’s my dog?”

Once a bandage was secured on the back of your neck, Pennywise placed one hand on your shoulder and pet your matted hair with the other. He didn’t say a word.

You felt disgusting, inside and out. You let that creature do this to you ( _ begged _ for it,  _ demanded _ it). You wanted him to do it again. You willingly married him. You knowing married  _ It. _

_ What have I done? _


	22. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic life with a killer clown sucks.

“Jesus H. Christ!” You used one hand to steady yourself on the front door, and the other to cover your rapidly beating heart. You marched over to the staircase and shouted up, as if scolding a child (which you basically were), “Pennywise the Dancing Clown!”

“Yes?”

You jumped again as his voice came from behind you. Your turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest and frowning. “What have I told you about teleporting?” You dimly registered the _click, click_ of Lexie’s claws as she trotted down the hallway. “What the fuck is this?”

Pennywise tilted his head. “What’s what?”

“There is a _dead body_ on the floor!”

“Is that a problem? I assumed, since you are aware of my dietary needs, you wouldn’t mind-”

“ _Yes,_ it’s a problem!”

Lexie planted her cute little ass down next to the clown. You were surprised, at first, when she wasn’t afraid of Pennywise. You later figured she must have known, all along. There had to be a reason Pennywise only hunted humans. Perhaps his illusions didn’t work on animals.

Pennywise was wide-eyed, (pretending to be?) shocked that the dead woman on the floor was a sticking point.

“What was her name?” you asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped. Murdered a woman, literally ate her heart out, and didn’t even bother to learn her name. You sighed. “I’m going to buy bleach.” And even though you had just arrived home from work, you walked out the front door. You didn’t even slam it behind you; you just leaned back against it, letting your head fall back and your eyes fall closed.

Two whole weeks of this madness. Two weeks of leaving your hair down to hide the scars. Two weeks of losing yourself every time he turned back into the man you loved. Two weeks of losing your mind every time he turned back into the monster you married. The dead body on the floor was a new one, though: Another box to check off on the misery list.

The familiar sound of a kickstand hitting pavement shifted your headspace. No more wallowing in self-pity allowed; it was showtime.

“Oh. _Hi, Arianna_ ,” you said loud enough for the creature inside to hear you.

“Hey, [YN]!” Arianna responded as she made her way up to the porch, brown paper bag in hand. “I was in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by. I brought Lexie some homemade treats my dad and I made!”

You could physically feel your heart break, as you had at least twice a day for the last two weeks. Arianna was such a good kid; she deserved to know, but she didn’t deserve...this. What you were going through. The guilt, the chaos, the hatred. She deserved the truth, but she didn’t deserve to live with it. And when the door opened behind you and a familiar arm wrapped around your waist, a familiar hand landing comfortably, expertly on your opposite hip, the shattered remains of your heart got blown away in the storm.

“Hey, Ari!” said George - not Pennywise, as that was Its clown form, but not Georgie; that was an innocent child that was murdered twenty-eight years before. “George” would do just fine. “I’m afraid you can’t come in, right now. Uh…”

“We’re cleaning the floors,” you qualified, shooting George an annoyed glance. “The fumes are pretty nasty. In fact, I was just about to go buy some more.”

Your annoyed glance turned into a gaze at the man - _your_ man, with his light brown hair and wide, blue eyes. Your man with the innocent look. Your man who was substantially taller than you but never made you feel small. _Your man._

Your husband.

Your monster.

You hadn’t even noticed Lexie run out to Arianna, until Arianna spoke up and asked, “Can I take her on a walk?”

“Of course. Let me just get-...” You balked, when you turned towards the door.

George took your hand and squeezed. “I’ll get her leash.” He headed inside, and you headed for your car.

Later, you would have a near panic attack over your decision to leave Arianna alone with _him_ , but it didn’t cross your mind at the moment. You forced a smile and told her goodbye, and then you got on your way. You were trying to act as normal as possible, after all.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what happened to your neck?”

You froze. _Shit_. You had brushed your hair to the side without thinking, and she had seen the scars.

“I was at the dog park with Lexie,” you lied, “and another dog bit me.”

“On the neck?” Arianna was shocked.

“I was sitting on the ground. Just...don’t tell anyone.” You looked down. “I don’t want the dog to get in trouble.”

About that time, George emerged from the house with Lexie’s leash, and you hurried to the safety of your car before you had to play happy family any more.

* * *

Nights were the worst. Nights were just you and Pennywise, nowhere to hide from the truth. He told you Pennywise was his favorite form, but you suspected it was more than that. Pennywise was his comfort form. It was the place he always reverted to. It was practiced, tried, and true. It _worked._ It scared people. And scared people tasted better.

You were scared all the time, these days, but not of him. Not of _It._ It “loved” you, after all. It had every opportunity, day in and day out, to kill you. Hell, it could have just _asked._ “Hey, (YN), I’m kinda bored; mind if I just fuckin’ kill ya?” You would have loved nothing more.

But he didn’t. Day in, day out, he appeared at home with gold eyes that turned blue every time he looked at you, dried your tears, kissed you on top of your head, and acted like nothing was wrong. Like he didn’t have the blood of another innocent on his mouth and gloves. Like nothing had changed since you found out who - what - he - It - truly was.

But it had. Maybe not to him. Maybe not even to your dog. To you, however, everything was wrong, changed, broken, and _seeing_ one of his victims (he called them meals, you called them victims) dead on the floor had shaken you to your core. It seemed destined to be an autopilot sort of night. Just get through the night.

“Are you angry with me?”

You laughed, cleaning up the last, pink remnants of blood on the floor with a sponge. “Yes.”

“I’m-”

“ _Don’t._ ” You sat back on your heels and glowered up at your clown. If your eyes changed color like his, they’d have been fire engine red. “Don’t say you’re sorry. I know you’re not. Don’t lie to me.”

That’s when it happened. That’s when the last of your denial melted away and all the heartbreak, all the anger, all the pain hit you all at once, like a brick wall. You didn’t explode or fall apart. You didn’t even yell. You just sighed and stood up.

“You took everything from me,” you said. “There is nothing left. I am nothing. I _hate_ you.”

His eyes turned yellow. “You married me.”

“I married Georgie.”

Orange. “I _am_ Georgie.”

“You’re _nothing_.”

 _Red_. “I love you.”

“ _I hate you._ ”

He lunged at you, and you reacted, falling back to the floor. His eyes flashed blue before settling at gold.

“If you love me,” you snarled, “kill me.”

Pennywise snarled back at you and disappeared, as if he was never there.

You stood up and dusted yourself off. You needed a shower; you smelled like blood and bleach. A scalding shower was in order.


	23. Until Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take drastic measures to regain control of yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for graphic depictions of self-harm. Please be safe. I love you all and would be heartbroken if any of you got hurt because of me.
> 
> I may not reply to every comment, but I read them all, and every single one makes my day. <3 Y'all are the best. Thanks for sticking with me. Ten chapters left!

Fresh out of the shower, you let your towel fall and stared at your naked body in the mirror. You looked dead. At least, like you _should_ have been dead. A little more blood, and you’d have looked no better than the dead woman that was on your floor, that morning. You had, when Pennywise first left those scars.

You didn’t even really see them as scars. They were more like tattoos. Brands. A sign to everyone and everything that you were spoken for. Claimed. Owned. No one but Pennywise could have you; not even yourself.

You pulled your wet hair up into a bun, exposing the bite mark on the back of your neck. Many of the marks he had left on your wedding night were gone or at least faded, but that one remained clear as day, as did the lacerations on your thigh. You really should have gone to the hospital and had them stitched, but what would you have said? “Oh yeah, my eldritch husband got a little too rough during sex and slashed me Freddy style?”

You ran your fingers over the raised lines. They could have been made by a razor blade.

They could have been.

Had it been another day, you might have recognized the irrationality of your thoughts, but you didn’t.

If Pennywise could claim you with scars, you could take yourself back.

You could take yourself back so that no one could ever have you again.

You got dressed in your oldest, comfiest pajamas, put Lexie in the backyard, and ran next door, to _your_ house: 27 Neibolt Street. You had a box cutter in a drawer in the kitchen, from when you moved in, and you had a toolbox at _his_ house. All you had to do was unscrew the box cutter and get the blade out, and then…

You found yourself back in the bathroom at 29 Neibolt Street, blood dripping into the sink from a clean, deep cut across your left wrist. Instantly, the room fell away. You could see it and dimly feel it, but you weren’t there, like a dream. You were separate, and wherever you were, it was just you and the shard of metal in your hand.

You pressed the blade against your right wrist and dragged it across, reveling in the cold feeling of opening your skin like a zipper and letting everything you were feeling bleed out.

But it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

You slashed at your arms until you couldn’t see skin beneath blood, but it _still_ wasn’t enough. That wasn’t what you came here to do.

You placed the blade in the middle of your left wrist and dragged it to your elbow.

Switch sides.

Repeat.

You had already been dizzy, and god, there was blood _everywhere_ . The world was spinning. You had to sit down. You didn’t have any energy left to care about the mess you were leaving. You just had to go _down_.

You leaned your back against the bathtub and closed your eyes. You didn’t cry. Why would you? What did you have left to live for?

Lexie, but she had Pennywise and Arianna. She’d be cared for, wouldn’t she?

That’s what you had to believe. It was too late. You were finally floating.

You managed to pry your eyes open one more time, when you sensed his presence in the doorway. His eyes were the color of the growing puddle you were sitting in, his expression murderous. “Who?” he asked.

You narrowed your eyes in confusion.

Then, he was at your side, gripping your forearms. You groaned from the pain as your blood soaked through his gloves.

“ _Who did this?_ ” he amended.

You opened your eyes one more time. “You did,” you murmured. “You killed me, you _bastard_ , I hate you.” Your eyes fluttered closed. “I hate you. I hate you…”

Somewhere, as if echoing through a tunnel, you heard your name.

* * *

Humans were supposed to fear death. Pennywise’s entire existence, for millions of years, rode on this fact. Even if your fear smelled sour, he would have loved to have detected even an inkling of it just then. Anything to make this more normal, because it just didn’t make sense!

Nothing made sense.

Pennywise was not supposed to feel fear. Then again, he wasn’t supposed to love, either. _Damn you._ You were a whole world of trouble for him. You made him, literally, crazy. None of that was important, however.

What was important was that Pennywise knew very well what death looked like, and you were speeding towards it like a runaway train.

Pennywise was scared.

The last time he felt fear was when those goddamn kids back in ‘89 managed to defeat him on his own turf, a memory which made him hot with anger. He couldn’t bring himself to be angry at you. Maybe because you were right; this was his fault. He had to fix it.

Goddamn it, it was all a _mistake._ You were so vulnerable - a young woman living by herself which such a fun fear to exploit. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, but Pennywise had been alone for so long…

He was not about to be alone again. He _could not_ be alone again.

Even if you _hated_ him.

“[YN],” he begged as you drifted off. He placed his hands on either side of your face, smearing blood from his gloves across your cheeks. “ _[YN]._ ”

[YN] what? Don’t hate me? Come back? I’m sorry? _Don’t die?_

Oh, _fuck,_ don’t die.

Pennywise pulled what was left of you into his lap, cradling you tightly. Whatever he was going to do, he needed to do it and do it fast. It should have been easy. He’d been living amongst humans for eons. He knew all about them. He knew how to handle every human situation. A classic suicide? Easy-peasy. He’d seen loads of them. Easy-peasy, until it was you, _his_ person, pale and cold and looking really dead right about now.

Pennywise almost thanked the damn turtle you still had your phone in your pocket. He snatched it and started the shift. Georgie could call 911. The human doctors would come, and they would save you. If he could just...fucking... _shift._

You see, you were right about one thing; Pennywise was more than Its favorite form. He had spent so much time in it, it was like muscle memory. He reverted to Pennywise. And panic wasn’t good for the shift. Parts of him shifted, then shifted right back. He roared in frustration.

 _Focus on the voice_.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

* * *

He wanted to stay with you. Dear god, he did. You were hanging on by nothing, and he worried if he set you down, you’d be gone, but he could hear the sirens making their way down Neibolt Street. He had to leave. Shift or leave, and try as he might, he couldn’t fucking shift. He couldn’t even manage to disappear. He had to leave.

“[YN],” he said, memorizing your face with the name in case…

No. They’d save you.

Then why was he paralyzed?

The sirens stopped in front of the house. He had to leave, _now._

He almost begged the damn turtle to save you.

If this was the last time he saw you, he would raze the whole fucking town to the ground. For now, he kissed your forehead and gently lowered you to the floor. His hands were on your chest, resting over your thready heartbeat before Pennywise used the last of his energy to return to his lair.

Alone in the dark, he begged the damn turtle to save you.


	24. Aftermath, the Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actions have consequences, but will you or Pennywise have to face them?

“Come on, [YN].”

“...can do this. Hang in there…”

“...but you have to fight for me, [YN].”

Unfamiliar voices faded in and out with your consciousness. There were lights and screams, and you were confused. Was this death? Death was supposed to be peaceful.

And then you were awake. Your view was fuzzy, at first: Pale shapes moving in a pale world. Your eyes soon focused on a woman in light green scrubs working over you, like a spider meticulously wrapping up its prey. She stopped when her eyes met yours. “[YN]?” She pulled a tiny flashlight out of her pocket and shined it in your eyes. “[YN], do you hear me?”

You were in the hospital. There had been no screams, only the sirens on an ambulance. The unfamiliar voices were those of paramedics and doctors and nurses.

“Yes,” you choked.

“Good.” She stepped back and retrieved a chart from the counter and began scribbling something down. “You’re very lucky. If you hadn’t called your husband, we wouldn’t have found you in time.” She met your eyes again. “Would you like to see him? It’s completely up to you.”

Oh, god. He was there. Of course, he was. You couldn’t escape him.

The moment before you passed out, he had looked so  _ afraid _ ...

“I don’t know.”

She patted your arm, looking at you intensely. “You are safe, okay? We’ve got you. We won’t let anyone in here if you don’t want them, but I need you to speak to our psychiatrist, okay?”

You nodded.

“I’ll talk to you after that. We’re going to let your husband know you’re okay. Is that alright?”

You nodded again.

* * *

 The waiting room wasn’t exactly crowded. At least, not any more than your average summer day. It’s just that there wasn’t much space outside of the ten-foot radius surrounding Pennywise, where no one else dared go.

To everyone else, of course, he was just a man - George Denbrough, if anyone happened to know his name. Over the past year, he had gained a reputation for being a kind man with a good sense of humor, if a little bit reclusive. He rarely left that creepy old house of his, and when he did, he was always with his wife or dog, or sometimes with that young girl he and his wife knew. No one paid much attention to him. This is, until he was sitting in the emergency room with a positively murderous look on his usually handsome face, sitting on his hands, and rocking like a basket case. Hence the ten-foot radius.

Pennywise never thought he’d be thankful to humans for anything, but he was thankful for that ten-foot radius. Keeping up the illusion of George was taking a lot of energy. Too much, in fact. He couldn’t stop his white gloves from forming, so he sat on his hands. An orange pom pom popped out of his sneakers, so he jammed his foot under the chair with a frustrated growl. If he kept this up, people would start noticing. There was no way he could manage to hide himself, if he couldn’t even keep his fucking pom poms under control, let alone cloak the place. The last time he felt this weak, it was that damn Loser’s Club again. They’d made him weak and made him fear death. You made him weak and made him fear  _ your _ death, which he was finding to be just as bad or worse. Death was beginning to sound like a peaceful fate compared to an eternity alone.

Or maybe that wasn’t it at all. Maybe it was the idea of an an eternity without  _ you _ . Maybe the idea of a universe without  _ you _ was too horrible to fathom. Or maybe [YN] had become synonymous with his universe, and a universe without  _ you _ didn’t sound like a universe at all.

He groaned, feeling his eyes go the wrong color. He wasn’t in the mood to explain to the denizens of Derry why George Denbrough’s blue eyes were suddenly gold, and for once, he didn’t feel like killing anybody.

“Mr. Denbrough?”

Pennywise remembered too late that his eyes were all wrong. The nurse started. “Sir, your eyes-”

“They ordered the wrong fucking contacts.  _ How is she? _ ”

The nurse cleared his throat. “She’s stable and conscious. Our psychiatrist is speaking with her, now.”

“Let me see her.”

“That’s up to her and Dr. Richmond, the psychiatrist.”

Pennywise grunted.

“I know this is hard, Mr. Denbrough.” The nurse sat in the chair across from him. “Has [YN] shown any signs of depression? Or has something happened recently that may have triggered this attempt?”

“No,” Pennywise said firmly. “Yes. I don’t know.” He moved his now bare hands into his lap. “She...regrets marrying me. I think.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Two weeks.”

The nurse sighed. “I don’t want you to speculate. Hopefully, she will open up to Dr. Richmond, and we can get her stabilized mentally. Until then, we’ll just have to keep her safe. Mr. Denbrough,” he leaned forward, “you and your wife may want to consider putting her in inpatient care.”

If the nurse noticed Pennywise’s eyes flash red, he didn’t let on.

“My wife is not crazy.”

“I never said she was. The point of inpatient care is just to monitor her, give her time to relax, and get her the therapy she needs,” the nurse explained.

Pennywise sat on his hands again and looked away. The nurse laid a hand on his knee that was intended to be comforting. “I know this is very difficult, Mr-”

“You have no idea,” Pennywise snapped, biting back the instinct to rip the head of this man and everyone else that stood between him and you.

Helplessness, he decided, was almost as bad as fear.

* * *

Dr. Richmond was a kind-faced woman with auburn hair and a gentle smile, and she asked too many questions. That was her job, of course, but there were just so many questions you didn’t want to -  _ couldn’t _ \- answer. At least, not completely honestly.

“Did something happen that drove you to take such extreme measures?”

(“ _ Yeah, my husband left a partially eaten woman on my floor this morning.”) _

“No.”

“Is everything okay at home?”

_ (“I hate my husband.”) _

“Yes.”

_ (“But I hate myself more.”) _

And your personal favorite: “Could you be pregnant?”

You actually laughed.

_ (My husband isn’t even human. I haven’t had sex with a human since-”) _

“No.”

She prescribed you some medication and left as swiftly and painlessly as she had come, like a ghost or a dream. The doctor returned in much the same way, floating into your room and speaking from very far away, right beside your bed.

“Would you like to see your husband, [YN]?”

This time, you nodded. It wasn’t a thought out answer so much as a natural response. Perhaps, on some level, you needed to see him. He was real.

It was George who entered your room with the doctor. His eyes were wet and bloodshot and a little bit wild, and he took a shaky breath in, when he saw you.

“Would you like some time alone?” the doctor asked, and you nodded again.

No sooner was the door closed behind her than Pennywise stood before you with the same wet, bloodshot eyes. His lips barely formed your name before he knelt by your side and laid his ear on your chest. At first, you weren’t sure what was happening, then you realized he was listening to your heartbeat. He entwined his gloved fingers with yours, and you felt his breaths even out.

It may have been thirty seconds or thirty minutes, but eventually, he stood up and met your eyes again.

“You should have let me die,” you said.

His demeanor shifted to something like anger and a little like panic. He grabbed your wrist a little too tight and snarled, never breaking eye contact. “Don’t say that.”

“You should have let me die.”

“If you  _ ever _ try that again, I will-”

“You’ll what?”

A little shock, a little more anger, and a lot of defeat. The realization on both your parts that there was nothing he could do to you without losing you, while you could take everything from him.

He disappeared.


	25. Marissa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the time being, you’re alone.

You didn’t see him for nearly three weeks.

After he disappeared, you stayed at the hospital overnight. You refused inpatient treatment, and they reluctantly discharged you in the morning. You returned to 29 Neibolt Street, where a positively distraught German shepherd greeted you at the door, and spent the rest of the day curled up in bed with your puppy who wasn’t a puppy anymore.

It had been year to the month, a little over to the day, since you moved to Derry and brought Lexie home. She was your only constant source of comfort. Fuck Pennywise and his baseless threats. Lexie’s excitement upon seeing you arrive home filled you with plenty of guilt.

And then, there were the posters.

Marissa St. Claire was the woman’s name. She had a husband and two kids. You broke down in front of the powerline pole, dropping Lexie’s leash (she didn’t leave you, of course she didn’t) and sobbing in broad daylight, much to the concern of the few onlookers making their way down West Broadway.

Then, there were the questions.

At first, you were more than a little relieved that Pennywise was gone. It was just you and Lexie ( _ the way it should have been _ ). You got both the houses clean, everything in order. You resolved to move back into  _ your _ house, 27 Neibolt Street, but then the questions came. You see, if Pennywise was gone, so was George Denbrough. Arianna was the first to ask, just a few days after he disappeared.

_ He’s on a business trip? No, fuck, he’s unemployed. _

_ He’s visiting...no, he doesn’t have any family...friends? _

_ Or I could go with something closer to the truth. He’s leading a double life. He has another wife and kids up in Bangor and he’s gone back to them. Better yet, he  _ is  _ the wife. He’s actually a famous drag queen in Maryland- _

You settled on “Visiting some friends in Canada.” Thank God, Arianna bought it. Unfortunately, she was perceptive in other ways.

“[YN], why are you wearing long sleeves when it’s hot outside?”

They way she said it, it wasn’t a question. You sighed, “Arianna, I-”

“I know you haven’t been to work in a week. [YN], what did you do?”

You said something you didn’t think you meant, because it seemed like an answer that made sense with your story, but as you said it, you knew it was actually, painfully true: “I don’t like being alone, Arianna.”

“Does Georgie know?”

You almost said yes, but that  _ didn’t _ work with your story, so you lied. And you stayed at 29 Neibolt Street, because it aroused less suspicion. You cuddled up to Lexie at night and wondered what you would tell everyone if he never came back.

* * *

“Are you okay?”

You jumped at the sound of Beth’s voice. You had been in a daze on the bull sharks, watching them swim calmly in circles.

You coworkers knew what you had done. Hell, everyone knew what you had done. It was hard to hide the bandages, and later the scars, even under long sleeves. It was easier to come clean.

“Yeah,” you rubbed your tired eyes. It was just after closing, and the aquarium was deadly quiet and mostly dark except for the eerie, blue glow coming from the tank lights.

Beth walked up and leaned her back against the glass. “Hubby still out of town?”

You nodded.

“It’s been weeks.”

“A friend of his had a death in the family,” you qualified. It was the official story you had adopted, and your suicide attempt was the result of an argument you’d had just before he left.

“You should tell him,” Beth said.

There was so much you wanted to say. First of all, that he knew. He was there. He held you and tried to save you as you tried your damndest to die. Second, that he was a fucking monster. You had made the monster that plagued this damn town cry, and that was something you still couldn’t wrap your head around, three weeks later.

Beth asked, “Are you okay to be alone?”

You nodded.

“Go home,” she said. “We’ll cover for you.”

You didn’t like being treated like you were made of glass.

* * *

 

The moment you arrived home, you knew something was very wrong. There was just an energy in the house that you couldn’t explain. Lexie didn’t greet you at the door.

“Lex?” you called, and you heard her whining down the hall. You ran to her and found her lying in front of the basement door, pawing at the small opening beneath it. There was a loud crash, and you both jumped. Your eyes went wide, and your heart raced.

_ Someone’s down there, or some _ thing _ ’s down there. _

You motioned for Lexie to stay and slowly opened the door. The smell of sugar and blood assaulted your senses. It was a familiar smell, but you had never smelled it so strong. “Pennywise?” you called down the stairs. You were answered by silence. The pit that was forming in your stomach deepened, and you took your first step down, closing the door behind you. Once upon a time, Lexie was meant to protect you. Now, you couldn’t imagine letting her do such a thing. “Pennywise?” you called again, taking a few more slow, calculated steps down.

The first thing you saw when the basement came into view was red-black liquid clinging to the ceiling, as if gravity had inverted itself. You followed the stream to-

“Oh my god, what the fuck happened to you!?”


	26. Even If You Hate Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read all your comments, even if I don't reply, because I seldom have anything to add but grateful sobbing.
> 
> Only 8 more chapters in the outline!

His eyes were glowing a sickly, jaundiced yellow, instead of his usual gold. He was sitting on the ground, leaning back against the well, hands clutching at his wounded stomach.

_It floats. His blood floats._

“Wounded” was, in actuality, a huge understatement. His stomach had been slashed all the way across. It looked as if he’d woken up and wandered off in the middle of some sort of intestine-ectomy. You felt bile rise in your throat, and you clutched your own stomach as phantom pain shot through.

“He fought back,” Pennywise rasped. “I will heal. I will be okay.”

He scrunched up his nose and looked away as you approached ( _“I don’t like the smell of your fear.”_ ), but you were already there, yanking your uniform shirt over your head and pressing it against his stomach to stem the flow of blood ( _It floats. My god, it_ floats _._ )

He bared his teeth. “I am not human. It is nothing. I-”

“Shut the _fuck up._ ”

His mouth snapped closed. Then, quietly. “I missed you.”

“Fuck you. Where have you been?” Your throat felt tight. “It’s been three weeks. People were wondering where...George was.”

“You didn’t want to see me.”

“What if something worse had happened?”

“I never left,” he said. He took one hand out from under your wadded shirt and delicately cupped your shoulder, avoiding your gaze. “I was always here, watching.”

You bit your lip, not understanding why you were hurting. Angry, yes. That made sense. But why were you hurting?

“You’re a fucking idiot, Pennywise.” Your voice went from tight to watery. “How did this happen? How did you _let_ this happen? You’re a fucking _idiot!_ ” It took everything you had not to rear back and slap him, so you ended up throwing your bloody shirt in his face. The bleeding was beginning to slow, anyway. When you pulled back, you saw that the wound had already begun to stitch itself back together. You hissed under your breath, “Insufferable shit.”

He looked up at you with those damn, big eyes, lips parted slightly in an apologetic look. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Looking back, you may have flown off the handle, a little bit.

“You’re _sorry?_ You’re fucking sorry? Yeah, I bet you are. Disappear for three fucking weeks, then go and get yourself gutted. What if you had died? I wouldn’t have known, Pennywise! No one would have known! You’re an idiot. An absolute, insufferable, stupid fucker. A complete toolshed.”

He looked up at you, downright pathetically contrite, and you did the last thing either of you expected.

You fell into his lap, knees straddling his hips, grabbed the frayed ruffle around his neck, and slammed your lips on his so hard and fast it actually hurt.

His body went rigid for a few seconds, then completely melted beneath your touch. His hands pressed into your back. His silk gloves felt like heaven on your bare skin. Fuck, you _missed_ him, and you hadn’t even known it until he came back to you. Alone, it seemed, didn’t suit you well, anymore.

Seeing him sliced open and bleeding on the floor was like pouring gasoline on a flame inside you that you didn’t even know was burning. You were terrified. No other word sums it up better. You wondered if that’s how he had felt...before you pushed the fleeting thought away and let your body take over for your mind. Your mind was making you feel bad. Your body was making you feel good. So you turned off the thinking and let yourself _feel._

You felt one hand creep up your back and rip your bra open. You felt two sets of class sink into your shoulders and drag down your back, freezing cold, leaving searing hot pain in their wake. You made a noise of protest that fell on deaf ears, then you felt your back hit the cold, damp floor. It felt gross but soothing on your scratched back.

“Pennywise-” you began to protest. You had forgotten how much sex with this thing could hurt. But your protest was cut short when a hand on your shoulder pulled you over, into your stomach. You heard his already torn costume tearing more, and you made another noise of protest when claws sank into your hips. It grew into a cry when when razor sharp teeth sank into your right shoulder blade.

“Fuck! Pennywise, _stop!_ ” you screamed, shaking from pain and fear. _It’s going to be like last time,_ you thought. _He’s going to tear me apart. One of these times, and maybe this one, he’s going to kill me._

It took you a moment to register the sudden stillness. The lack of pressure on your back. Your arms gave out and you collapsed onto your elbows, barely managing to turn yourself over in the process.

Pennywise was sitting back, looking at you with baby blue eyes.

“You stopped,” you murmured, a little delirious still from the sudden painful spiral of events that had just occurred.

Pennywise tilted his head. “You told me to.”

“Yes.”

In the silence that followed, you suddenly became aware of your breathing, your body, the blood dripping down your back, and the pain in your shoulder blade. There was nothing else to sense. There was stillness.

“Was I not supposed to?” Pennywise asked.

“No, you were,” you said, “but…I didn’t think you would.”

A number of emotions crossed his face too quickly to identify, blending into each other smoothly as baby blue faded into yellow faded into blood red. Your heart leapt into your throat when he finally reached very clear, very apparent, very violent anger. You flinched when he took your face in his hands, but his hands were gentle. His voice, however, was a murderous snarl.

“No one will _ever_ touch you without your permission ever again. Not even me.”

You were shaking again, but not from fear. “Oh my god.” _You love me._

You pushed yourself up and kissed him again. It was a hundred times gentler and a hundred times more electric, and you knew there would be consequences but in the moment you needed to do this. You began to lean back. He broke the kiss.

“You wanted to stop.”

“Just...not quite as rough, okay?”

He laid you down again. You knew it was still wrong, that he was a monster, and you were going to have eight infected gashes down your back, but none of that mattered. What mattered was that he stopped. He was a monster, but he had given you something humans had not.

He kissed you softly again and again as he ran his hands over your thighs, hooking his fingers through the waistband of your work shorts and easing them over your hips. You could feel in the way his hands and body tensed that he was struggling to stay gentle when every instinct was telling him to fuck you six feet into the ground. You could feel every inch of him as he slowly entered you, easing away the last of your apprehension. Your body felt _amazing,_ and your mind was beginning to come around.

A frustrated growl kicked up in your lover’s chest, and you uttered a breathy laugh.

“Penny,” you mumbled against his lips. “I’m not made of paper. You can go a little faster. I’m okay.”

So he kissed you a little harder, and he pinned you down and fucked you like his life depended on pleasing you. You clung to him for dear life as your world exploded with blinding, deafening pleasure. You felt...well, shit, you _felt._ You felt _everything_.

You came hard, and again almost immediately. Then it was over, and there was stillness again. He held you on the basement floor. You were filthy and bloody - Hell, you were still salty and fishy from work - but you were comfortable.

“I love you,” Pennywise sighed against you.

“I know.”

His face contorted into something like a snarl. “Even if you _hate_ me.”

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came to your lips. Nothing even came to your mind. Instead, you snuggled into his chest, letting yourself forget what he was and feel safe. Soundlessly, you mouthed the words, “Don’t leave.”

He didn’t answer, of course, because you hadn’t really said anything, but he did hold you a little bit tighter.


	27. I'll Follow You Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe you don't hate him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took forever. Hopefully the fact that it's one of the longer chapters will make up for the wait. The title is inspired by Shinedown's song I'll Follow You.

Maybe you didn’t forgive him. Maybe you couldn’t. Maybe you would never be able to forgive him.

...Still, you had to admit, waking up next to the epitome of evil and finding it cuddling your puppy was pretty fucking cute.

He looked sweet, innocent, perhaps you could even say infantile when he was asleep. His eyes were closed, his red lips parted slightly. He was spooning Lexie, which was equal parts adorable and hilarious. You almost wanted to take a picture for posterity. And drool. There was a lot of drool.

In spite of everything, you smiled, and without thinking, you reached over and brushed your fingers through his hair. He sighed in his sleep. Cute.

You sighed, too. Maybe you didn’t  _ hate _ him. Not anymore, at least. You hadn’t really noticed how vehemently you had been ignoring him, avoiding him, until you weren’t. Aside from the whole clown thing, he was almost...normal. It was almost like having George back. You made waffles for breakfast, and he actually ate some. You supposed human food couldn’t hurt him. He’d been eating it all along, when he was pretending to be human. You made small talk about the weather, and he asked you how your week at work was. After breakfast, he sat down on the floor in the living room and played with Lexie.

_ Two animals playing tug-of-war, _ you mused, watching with a faint smile on your lips as the two of them play-fought passionately over one of Lexie’s rope toys.

You realized you didn’t know him at all, and yet you knew him perfectly well. He was George, and George was him, there was just...some extra baggage to unpack. Namely, the fact that “he” was actually a genderless eldritch abomination that ate humans. Particularly children. Why children?

“What do you mean, ‘why children?’”

You jumped at the sound of his voice and found his attention now focused on you. You hadn’t even meant to say anything out loud. “Just…” You sighed heavily, raking your hair back with your fingers. You suddenly felt very tired. “I know you eat adults, too. Hell, I’ve  _ seen _ you eat adults.”

“And?”

“ _ And _ why do you have to eat children?” you finished. It seemed such a simple question, to you. You couldn’t eloquently explain, even to yourself, why eating children was so much worse than eating adults; it just was. It seemed a universal truth. If you could eat an animal instead of a human, you should, and if you could eat an adult instead of a child-

Pennywise shrugged. “They’re easier.”

You blinked. “Easier?”

“Their fears,” he explained, “are easier to perform. Monsters, spiders, the dark. Adults’ fears are deeper, layered.” He smiled. “Take yourself, for example; I had to marry you, to scare you.”

“Oh.”

Pennywise went back to playing with Lexie, and you went back to standing in the doorway, but now you weren’t watching them. Instead, you were fighting a sick feeling in your heart. You were disappointed in his answer, and he knew it. After perhaps twenty seconds of silence, he let Lexie win their game of tug-of-war, stood up, and faced you. “You are unhappy,” he said.

“Clearly.” You tried and failed to keep the bite out of your voice.

You didn’t miss the flicker of gold in his eyes before he said, sternly, “Don’t ask questions to which you do not want to know the answer, [YN]. I am what I am, and I cannot change.”

“You don’t have to change; you have to stop murdering kids!”

“I  _ have _ to?” His eyes glowed a blood orange color. He stepped towards you, and you held your ground. “Tell me, [YN]: Does the wolf  _ murder _ the rabbit?”

You shook your head. “That’s not the same thing.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Not to me.”

He was right in front of you now. He placed his hands on your shoulders, and you immediately shrugged them off, feeling tears well up in your eyes. Damn it all, the last thing you needed was to cry. You let your gaze fall to the floor. “You’re not even a ‘he,’” you mumbled.

“What?”

“You’re not even a ‘he!’” you said louder. In fact, you nearly shouted it, and his eyes flashed yellow in surprise. “You’re an ‘it!’ A fucking ‘it!’” You gritted your teeth and blinked the tears away, but a few managed to escape and fall down your cheeks. “You have no fucking soul.”

Pennywise clenched his fists, but not before you saw his claws begin to tear through his gloves. “You know  _ nothing _ of what I am.  _ Nothing _ .”

“I may not know what you are, but I know who you are, and you don’t scare me anymore,” you said. “We can go around in circles as many times as we like, but we will never see eye to eye, because I will always be human, and you will always be a monster!”

He began to say something that dissolved in a roar of frustration, and for a brief moment, you thought he was going to hurt you. Instead, he turned on a dime and made a break for the cellar door.

“Penny!” you called after him, accidentally letting him get a head start, not that he wouldn’t have been able to outrun you anyway. He disappeared down the stairway, and you pursued. “What the hell? Don’t run away from me!”

You made it to the cellar just in time to see him disappear into the well, and by the time you reached the edge, darkness was all that greeted you.

“Pennywise!” you shouted into the void, but the echo of you own voice was all that responded. You growled in frustration. If that’s where he went, there had to be something down there. If something was down there, there had to be a way to get to it. Where could you find a map of the sewer system? Maybe the library-

Or the rope and pulley. You could use the rope and pulley.

Under any other circumstances, you would have realized what a stupid idea it was. You could fall, and while you weren’t sure how far down the well went, it didn’t look like a fall you were likely to survive. Yes, under any other circumstances, you would have stopped right there and waited for him to come back. Unfortunately, you were seething, and a part of you was sad. You were thinking about as clearly as swamp water, so you wrapped the rope around your waist and began to lower yourself down, using your phone as a flashlight.

The tunnel wasn’t that far down, but you almost missed it, nonetheless. You had to pull yourself back up a little bit to be able to ease yourself into it. It was only once you made it, feeling the gritty dirt beneath your body and moisture seeping into your clothes, that you realized what a stupid idea this was. But the hardest part was over. There was no way to get so lost in those tunnels that Pennywise couldn’t find you, was there?

By the time you made it to a part of the tunnels where you could stand, your palms were raw and there was mud (and god knows what else) smeared all over you, from your knees to your face. You grimaced as you rolled your shoulders, fighting the stiffness in your back. You didn’t even want to think about  getting back out and up that well. There had to be more than one way in or out, right?

Or maybe you had no idea what you were doing and had followed your supernatural husband into the fucking sewer in a fit of rage.

“Pennywise?” you called out, taking a few tentative steps forward. You shivered and hugged yourself. The last time you ventured into Its territory, you ended up in the hospital, and your goddamn parents came to visit.

You laughed in spite of yourself, remembering how “George” had scared them off and realizing that Pennywise had probably flashed his yellow or red eyes at them. Served those fuckers right.

You trudged on in the silence, doing your very best to ignore the gray water seeping into your shoes, just hoping to run into him. In the end, it wasn’t him you found, but a place he’d clearly been and spent a lot of time.

It took a few moments for you to truly process the cistern: The pile of belongings stolen from people along with their lives, the circus trailer, the  _ smell _ , and - finally - oh god, the bodies.

_ They float, _ you thought in a panic,  _ just like his blood. They float. They  _ float.

And like them, the entire world seemed to float away.

* * *

 

You weren’t supposed to see that.

Damn it, woman. Why would you follow him?  _ How _ had you even gotten down there? Were you really stupid enough to go down that well? Apparently. Stupid or angry enough. Pennywise couldn’t decide which option was worse.

It was not beyond him that he resented you, in some way. He didn’t mean to love you. You had come along, easy prey with a complicated fear, a challenge, and fucked everything up, and he resented you for it. He wouldn’t go so far as to say “hate.” He didn’t think he could ever hate you. He  _ loved _ you. Love, however, was not something he knew how to do.

He had always been under the impression that love was supposed to be a pleasant emotion. It wasn’t. Not for him, anyway. Love hurt. Love was terrifying. Love was a  _ disease _ that could not be cured, but the symptoms could be at least partially managed. That is, as long as he had you.

Those weeks he spent hiding from you had been miserable. He watched over you, of course. He would never let anything happen to you. But bring there and not being able to touch or hold or comfort you was a rare form of torture.

He had caused you nothing but pain, and for that, he resented himself. And for making him resent himself, he resented you.

The goal was nothing more and nothing less that to keep you somehow, in some way. It was why he left you alone when things got heated. He didn’t want to accidentally make things worse. Most importantly, though?

You were  _ not _ supposed to see that.

He knelt down next to where you lay on the ground in a fitful sleep and wiped your damp hair out of your face. He could only assume you passed out, but it didn’t look like you hit the ground too hard. He sat back and gathered you up in his arms, and you stirred.

“You...were never supposed to see this,” he said, so softly you could barely hear.

You looked around with your eyes. “You live here?”

“I live with you. But before...yes.”

You looked back at him. Your expression was unreadable.

He grimaced and looked down. “Are you going to leave me, [YN]?”

* * *

 

“No!” you snapped, sitting up so fast your head spun. Pennywise drew back, eyes widening at your outburst. You reined it back in, though visions of your parents still flashed in front of your eyes. You picked at one of the pom poms on your clown’s chest. “That...has never been an option for me.”

You would rather die than get a divorce. Hell, you had tried.

Pennywise relaxed, and you leaned your head on his shoulder, still dizzy from blacking out. You gripped the shoulder of his costume in your fist.

You knew it was time to make a decision; be miserable, or…

“We’ll figure this out, somehow,” you promised. “We have to.”


	28. What Goes Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Pennywise have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this done for a few days and forgot to post it. Oops. At this point, I should note that I am not following the canon at all, in case it wasn't obvious. :P

“Field trip” was a blasphemous term for an even more blasphemous event at the Derry Aquarium. You thought you were safe in the summer, but alas, some sort of youth group arrived on an already busy Thursday in July and released a screaming mob into the aquarium twenty minutes before you were supposed to give an educational talk about turtles. Said educational talk, naturally, didn’t happen. Not really. You couldn’t get a word in about your goddamn turtles in between “Don’t bang on the glass,” “Please don’t bang on the glass,” and “The turtles don’t like it when you bang on the glass.” It was for that reason that you weren’t even nervous when you spotted Pennywise – or, rather, George Denbrough – among the crowd of clamoring six- to ten- year olds. He looked comically uncomfortable within the sea of tiny bodies, and when your eyes met, you were sure he could sense your “ _ help me _ ” as clearly as you could sense his.

“Do you have a question about turtles, sir?” you asked, not even trying to keep the relief and thankfulness out of your voice.

He scrunched up his nose. “I fucking hate turtles.”

“Language!” you laughed nervously. “What are you doing here?”

“Does a man need an excuse to visit his wife at work?” He smiled, and you lost your breath a little bit. “When’s your lunch break?”

You glanced at your watch. “Five minutes.”

“Meet me in the alley. I made sandwiches.”

“...What’s in the sandwiches?”

He smirked. “Come find out.”

* * *

 

Mercifully, your sandwich didn’t have any meat on it whatsoever, and Penny’s had what looked like ham but you didn’t ask. He made a surprisingly good sandwich, for someone who didn’t need to eat human food. It was all for your benefit, which you appreciated, but you didn’t need it to keep you sane anymore. The two of you sat on the ground in the alley with your backs against the wall of the aquarium.

“You can lose the act, you know,” you said in between mouthfuls of sandwich. “It’s just us. No one ever comes back here.”

He tilted his head. “You would prefer I was the clown?”

You shrugged, looking away and blushing a little. “I don’t know. I guess. It suits you better, I think.”

When you looked back at him, he was already the clown, and you jumped a little. He snickered. “You told me to.”

“Asshole,” you grumbled, but you were smiling.

“So what  _ is _ the occasion, actually?” you asked. “You’ve never come here for lunch with me, before.”

His expression darkened.

“Penny?”

It was another tense moment before he answered, “They’re back.”

You rolled your eyes. Always so cryptic, that one. “Who’s back?”

He stared into space, remembering. “They called themselves ‘The Loser’s Club.’ Stupid little brats. Mike Hanlon, he never left.”

“Wait, Mike Hanlon the librarian?”

He nodded. “But there were others. Seven of them in total.”

“What’s so special about them?”

He shifted to face you, looking into your eyes with an intensity that made you nervous. “They are going to try to fight me,” he said, “and they are going to lose, but I need you to stay out of the way.”

You frowned. “Stay out of the way? What are you-” And then it hit you. “Oh my god, you’re afraid of them.”

He snarled, lurching forward in a way that might have scared you, at some point. “I am  _ not _ afraid of them,” he snapped. “They are powerless against me. I am only protecting what is mine.”

“You think they want to hurt me?”

“No. They want to hurt  _ me. _ ”

You swallowed hard, fighting off a cold, right feeling in your stomach. You remembered finding him in the basement, bleeding and in pain. He was immortal, not invincible. He would live forever, but only if unhurt.

He grimaced. “Do not be afraid. It’s disgusting.”

“Well, I can’t help it!” You set your sandwich down on the bag he had brought it in and crossed your arms. “You wouldn’t be telling me if it wasn’t a concern.”

“It isn’t!” He insisted, looking and sounding much like an indignant child.

You sighed, knowing you were getting nowhere. “Fine. Just...be careful, okay?”

“I’m always careful.”

“Pennywise,  _ please _ .”

He pouted. “I will be careful."

“Stay away from them if you can.”

“I will.”

“And be home by ten o’clock at night.”

You might as well have slapped him across the face while telling him you’re a unicorn and the Earth is flat. “Absolutely not!”

“Absolutely yes,” you insisted. “I don’t want to be up until the wee hours of every night worrying about you. You’ve been inflicting curfews on the children of Derry for years, now deal with it.”

He looked as if he was going to argue, then relented. “Fine. I will be home my ten o’clock at night.”

“Thank you.” You reached over and brushed your hand over his hair, having the urge to kiss him. You didn’t. Instead, you checked your watch. “I have to go. We have another fucking field trip coming in at two.”

You stood up and shoved the rest of your sandwich in your mouth, swallowing it in time to say, “Thank you for lunch,” before grabbing the back door handle. Before you could open it, Pennywise grabbed your hand and pulled you back. You were about to ask why, when he cupped your cheeks in his hands and kissed you on the lips, uncharacteristically sweet and romantic.

When you opened your eyes, he was gone. You were alone in the alley.


	29. Philophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After inflicting a curfew on the children of Derry for who knows how many years, Pennywise can't handle his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Skulks out of the void after two months and leaves this on y'all's doorstep*

Pennywise kept his curfew for three nights.

You didn’t panic until midnight. First you got angry. How dare he leave you alone to worry about him? Next, you got confused. Did he suddenly forget, after three nights of perfect attendance at 29 Neibolt Street and not a minute tardy, that he had agreed to be home by ten o’clock?

You were sitting on the living room floor, back against the couch, when the clock struck midnight and your heart dropped. Even Lexie, who was asleep with her head on your legs, woke up and tensed. She knew something was horribly wrong. Or maybe she just felt the change in you.

“If he is not dead or close to it,” you told her, putting in a considerable effort to keep your voice even, “I am going to kill him.”

It was the wrong thing to say, because suddenly you were thinking,  _ What if he’s dead or close to it? _ And you thought about the moment in the alley when you almost kissed him and didn’t, and you wished you had, because the thought of never having the chance again hurt you like a stab in the gut.

Reason said, “He’s fine. The likelihood of the worst case scenario is-”

But paranoia butted in with, “Then why isn’t he here?”

_ Maybe he’s cheating on me _ was a thought, and a surprisingly upsetting one, though still better than him being hurt or…

You tried to dismiss the thought of him being dead, of never seeing him again. 

What was the last thing you had said to him? “Goodnight?” Had you seen him that morning, or had he already gone? What was the last thing he had said to you?

“I love you.” Early that morning (or, rather, yesterday morning), he had said, “I love you,” and kissed you on the forehead. You barely woke up and rolled over as he slipped out of bed and disappeared. It had been a normal morning and a normal day. A normal evening, even. Then, he didn’t come home.

You wanted to sleep. Surely, if you slept, he would be there in the morning. Or maybe you were already asleep, and this is your nightmare. Either way, sleep wouldn’t come. You knew that. Instead, you paced the house, at first searching for him in earnest, in case he’d come in without you noticing, then just wandering. Lexie trailed close behind you. At twelve-thirty, you returned to the living room, and at twelve-forty-five, you gave up and cried.

There were several options as to what was happening and why he wasn’t home, and none of them were good. At best, he was being an asshole. At worst, your librarian and his friends had killed him. A few minutes past one o’clock in the morning-

“Why are you crying?”

“Jesus Christ!”

Could you slap him? Was that allowed? Could you at least kick him in the dick?

“Are you alright? Did something happen?” he asked, rushing over to you faster than any human could have.

“I thought you were dead, you fucking asshole!” You threw your arms around him and gripped so tight you nearly suffocated yourself in his costume. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“I know. I am sorry.”

“Sorry!?” You pushed back, ready to put the fear of God in him, but his slumped posture and the unbearably guilty look on his face took the wind out of your sails. “Penny, what happened?”

“Nothing.” He took your hand. “And I intend to keep it that way.”

“For fuck’s sake, stop being so cryptic.” You crossed your arms and hoped you looked stern. “You can tell me things. Do you really think you’re going to scare me off, at this point?”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I thought they would follow me.”

“So?”

“I do not want to involve you in my fight.”

“I  _ am _ involved,” you countered. “I’m your wife, and I love you. We’re in this together.”

He was silent for so long, you thought the conversation was over, and that was just as well. You were tired and more than willing to curl up with him and your dog and sleep through your entire day off. You were about to suggest just that, when he spoke up.

“You said you love me.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you diverted your gaze. “Shut up; You know I love you.”

“I know you love Georgie.”

_ Oh. _

That hurt, and you weren’t sure why.

You took a deep breath, and then you admitted something, both to him and yourself, that not long ago you would never have imagined you would ever believe: “You  _ are _ Georgie. Or...Georgie is you, I guess. It’s doesn’t matter. You’re  _ you _ .”

He looked less than convinced, but you didn’t know what else to say, so did what you should have done three days before and pulled him down to your height and kissed him. You kissed him like you meant it, and he kissed back.

His fingers glided over the scars on the back of your neck. His touch was so gentle it made you want to cry. Next, he reached down and brushed his knuckles against your thigh through your sweatpants, right where those scars were. You realized with no small amount of emotion that he knew where they all were. He had memorized every mark he had left on you. He ran his hands over your back, then stepped back from you and took your arms in his hands. He ran his thumbs over the twin scars that ran from your wrists to the crooks of your elbows, and he winced. You winced, too.

“Penny, don’t.” You tried to pull your arms away, but he held on tight. You blushed and looked away. “I like the ones  _ you _ made.”

“You do not believe I made these?”

Your eyes snapped back to him. “No, of course not. What are you talking about?”

He mumbled something you could not hear.

“What?”

“I am afraid.”

You tried to pull your arms away again, and again he did not let you. “What could something like you possibly have to be afraid of?”

There was silence for a long time, so long you almost repeated your question in case he had forgotten. When you were about to speak, he raised his head and looked at you with such intensity you were frozen to the spot.

“You are going to get hurt, because of me,” he said.

You opened your mouth to say that wasn’t true, then closed it again, because it  _ was _ true, wasn’t it? You had  _ already _ gotten hurt because of him. Multiple times, in fact.

Then you understood: He was afraid of you loving him, and that scared you half to death.

“If you leave me,” you began, voice shaking dangerously, “I’ll…” What? Kill you? You shook your head. “You won’t-”

“ _ Don’t. _ ”

Your unspoken  _ be there, get to me in time, save me  _ hung heavy in the air. You hadn’t meant to say it. You hadn’t said it at all, had barely thought it, but it was there, enveloping you both like a noxious gas and choking you. His grip on your arms was painful, now. You took another deep breath.

“If you leave me,” you tried again, “I will be afraid of loving, again. Don’t do that to me.”

Just when the pressure on your arms became unbearable, he released them. “I will never leave you,” he said.

You waited for him to continue, for some caveat or condition, but that was it. It was final.

You threw your arms around his neck and kissed him again, a confession, an acceptance, and an apology all in one.

Pennywise effortlessly lifted you off the ground and slammed you back against the wall, hard enough to draw a short gasp from you. When you opened your eyes, he was staring at you intensely. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, God, yes,” you replied, smirking.

He grabbed your jaw a forced you to look directly at him. He had a deadly serious look on his face. “Tell me to stop, and I will stop. Do  _ not _ let me hurt you.”

Frankly, you were too turned on by his sudden shift in demeanor to muse over the irony of the way he said that like a threat, so you nodded frantically. “I won’t. I promise. Just...please?”

There would be time later to be embarrassed over how stupid and suddenly desperate you were. For the time being, his lips crashed onto yours again, and you were no longer tired. Nope. You had plenty of energy, all of a sudden.

As the seconds ticked by, the kiss became less deep, more desperate. Then, with a comically frustrated growl, Pennywise set you down. You expressed your confusion with a tilt of the head, which he took advantage of to bury his face in your neck, gently scraping his teeth on your skin and making you shiver. His claws tore through his gloves and into your sweatpants, and you had just enough time to thank yourself for wearing pajamas you didn’t give a shit about before they were torn to shreds off your body.

“Penny,” you laughed. “Pants cost money.”

His face drew up into something like a pout, and he ever so carefully pulled your shirt over your head.

You smiled. “I love you.”

You could feel the way he both startled and melted when you said those words, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little more. “I love you. I love you. I love y-”

He cut you off with a kiss, trapping you tightly between his body and the wall. He ran his fingers over your stomach and down between your legs. The kiss stifled your moan as he began to touch you, and you were finding it harder and harder to stay lucid as your heart rate sped up and your lungs demanded more oxygen. He finally broke the kiss when dark spots were beginning to dance in your field of vision. You gasped for air, grabbing his shoulders to steady yourself, and he chuckled at you. “Do you love me?”

“Yes!” you gasped. “Shit. Yes. Now get your goddamn clothes off.”

Pennywise tsked at you. “Uh-uh-uh, naughty girl,” he sang, then planted a firm kiss on your cheek. “Good things come to those who wait.” 

“I have been waiting for you all night. I swear to god, Pennywise. After what you’ve put me through? If you don’t put some part of your body-”

He slapped a hand over your mouth, effectively shutting you up, and giggled. “There, much better.”

“I’m going to kill you” made its way past his hand as something along the lines of a sound a dying microwave oven might make

He pressed his body against yours, shoving you back into the wall again. You were reminded, as you often were but always seemed to forget, how much bigger he was than you. He pressed his lips to the top of your head and spoke so softly you could barely hear it over the sound of your own rapid breath and blood rushing in your ears. “I would die for you,” he said.

_ I would die without you _ , you thought.

Finally, his clothes began to dissipate like dust, simply ceasing to exist. If your struggle for oxygen didn’t make you light headed, the feel of his skin, too pale and smooth to be truly human, did the trick. If he wasn’t careful, you were going to pass out from the sheer intensity of your adoration. The simple fact of his existence was, in that moment, enough to blow your mind. The fact that he was yours could have driven you to tears, had you not been suitably distracted by his hand caressing your side and his erection pressing against your lower stomach. You considered biting his hand in hopes he would remove it so you could yell at him to get a move on. Luckily, he moved his hand without prompting, sliding his palm along your cheek and around the back of your head. You only had time to take a much needed deep breath in through your mouth before he closed his fist in your hair and pulled down, forcing you to look straight up at him. You cried out in equal parts alarm, offense, and pain before your cry was smothered by his tongue in your throat.

_ Wait. _

You pushed against him ever so slightly, and he recoiled as if you had burned him. His eyes were wide. “Are you okay?”

“You’re a shapeshifter.”

He tilted his head. “Yes.”

“What can you do, exactly?”

“Anything.” He narrowed his eyes, seeming to catch your drift. He took a couple steps back towards you. “What do you want?”

You smirked. “Surprise me.”

He grinned, and it was equal parts adorable and absolutely wicked.

Then, he was gone.

He just disappeared, as if he’d never been there in the first place.

“Penny?” You took a couple steps forward, only to be shoved back into the wall by an invisible force. You screamed, thankful you still owned the house next door so no one would hear you and call the cops. You placed your hand over your racing heart. “You bastard.”

A chuckle shifted through the air around you. “Surprised?”

“Very.” You reached out into space. “Where are you?”

“Everywhere.”

You tried in vain to pinpoint the source of his voice. He really was everywhere. You flattened your palms against the wall as a means of grounding yourself before the butterflies in your stomach flew you away.

Something cold and smooth, like a ribbon, snaked around your wrists and pulled them back to the wall on either side of your head. You laughed nervously. “You are really intent on having me against this wall, huh?”

“Yes,” his voice responded, sounding closer and a bit more corporeal. Your already racing heartbeat sped up even more.

You tugged against your invisible bonds experimentally. They did not budge.

“Use your words, [YN]. What do you want?” His voice was right in front of you.

“I want you to touch me.”

“You want me to  _ touch _ you?”

He touched your face, but it didn’t feel just like he was touching you; it felt like a phantom sensation, like your body was reacting to a touch that wasn’t there, like his hand was not  _ on _ your skin but  _ in _ it.

“What the fuck…” you gasped.

The sensation faded from your cheeks, trickled over your shoulders, and paused on your breasts. You were shaking, and your whole body broke out into gooseflesh.

Pennywise’s voice dropped to a predatory growl. “What. do. you. want?”

You stared into the space in front of you, somehow aware that you had made eye contact. You knew what he expected - what he  _ wanted _ ; He wanted you to tell him to fuck you - to give him  _ permission _ to fuck you, but that wasn’t quite right, was it?

“I want you to make love to me,” you said.

There was a moment of stillness, of surprise. His touch ghosted over your lips, and you sighed and let your eyes close again. Then, every nerve in your body - but particularly where it counted - lit up like a firework. Your knees buckled immediately, and you collapsed against the wall.

“Holy fucking  _ shit. _ ” Your entire body shook under the relentless onslaught of sensation that went from zero to a hundred in a split second. You tried to pull yourself up by the bonds around your wrists, but to no avail, and you collapsed again, panting and moaning.

“You are so beautiful, like this,” he said, his voice seeming to come from inside your head. “So desperate, and all mine.”

All you could manage in response was a breathy whimper that ended in a sob. Hell, you barely even heard him over the buzzing in your head. At this rate, you were going to shatter like glass before he was done with you, and why not? It seemed a small price to pay for him and everything he was and everything he could do to you. The sensation was relentless, bordering on painful. It may have taken seconds, it may have taken hours, but when you came, you came hard, mouth open in a silent scream. You were nearly delirious in exhaustion by the time his phantom touch dissipated, and with it, the bonds around your wrists.

Pennywise appeared in front of you as quickly as he had disappeared, just barely in time to catch you as you fell, and the two of you went down together, gracelessly crashing to the floor. He cradled your head against his chest while your mind slowly cleared. Your limbs felt like jelly, your head was swimming, and your heart was racing too fast. You forced yourself to breathe slowly to reduce what you were sure was a dangerous heart rate. The drowsiness that had been postponed by your little dalliance hit you like a train.

The clock struck two.

“Pennywise,” you murmured. Sleep was quickly overtaking you.

“Hm.”

“We’re a team, okay? We’re in this together.”

There was a long time before he spoke. “I have been alone a very, very long time, [YN]. I don’t know how to be a team.”

“Figure it out.” In your head, you snapped. In reality, your voice was soft and slurring.

He sighed. “Okay.”

You let your eyes close, unable to force them open any longer. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He carried you upstairs to bed, but you were asleep long before he got there.


	30. The Veil Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You couldn't hide forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is in editing right now! I can't believe this story is almost over. I've been working on it for well over a year. What will I do with my life?

Call it was an intrusive urge, or perhaps it was stubbornness. You had every right - as much as anyone else in Derry - to go to the library. You were a citizen; those were your tax dollars at work, weren’t they? Still, as your footsteps carried you closer to the building, you felt a knot tying in your stomach, an overwhelming sense of  _ you’re not welcome here _ . You hesitated, heart racing as you pulled the front door open.

For a moment, the tension was gone. It was just the fucking library, after all. It bathed in dim, yellow light and smelled of old books. You’d be hard pressed to find a more innocuous place anywhere, but especially in Derry.

You spotted Arianna by the desk, talking to Mike Hanlon, and the knotting feeling in your stomach came back. You could only see Arianna’s back, but it looked tense, almost shaky, and Mr. Hanlon was clearly trying to comfort her. He looked up when he felt your eyes on him, and you could swear he looked relieved to see you. Probably so you could handle whatever was wrong with Arianna, you figured, and you made your way over.

“What’s wrong, Ari? Are you okay?” you asked. She turned to you, and you were startled to see tears in her eyes. That, along with being less than twelve inches from a man who you knew wanted to kill your husband, set you on edge. No, over the edge. If something didn’t give, you’d be having a full-blown anxiety attack on the library floor.

Luckily, something did give. Arianna’s tearful look gave way to a relieved one, and she hugged you tightly. “[YN]! I’m so glad to see you.”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” You turned to Mr. Hanlon for an answer, but he refused to meet your eyes. “What’s going on?”

Something had happened. That was the only explanation. Something horrible had happened.

“I need to talk to you alone,” Arianna said. Her tears were back and with a vengeance, falling down her cheeks. She was panicked, and with that, so were you.

“You can use the office,” Mr. Hanlon offered, still not meeting your eyes, ushering you towards an open door behind the desk.

Arianna practically dragged you into the office and shut the door behind you. She immediately took to pacing back and forth, wringing her hands.

“For god’s sake,” you said, voice shaking, “what’s the matter? You’re scaring me.”

“Where’s Georgie?”

Your whole body was shaking, now. “I don’t know! Oh my god, did something-”

Arianna mumbled something. It was hard to hear, but it sounded to you like, “It’s got Georgie.”

You let out a heavy sigh of relief. Of course she would think that. She saw or heard something, and she thought George was in danger, but of course he wasn’t. “Arianna, It doesn’t have George,” you said. “It isn’t-”

“I didn’t say it has Georgie,” she shouted, “I said it  _ is  _ Georgie!”

You felt as if all the heat had been sapped from your body in an instant. “...real,” you finished your sentence from earlier. “It isn’t real.”

Arianna sobbed and grabbed your hands. “[YN], please! You can’t go home. You have to get out of here.”

“This is crazy.”

“Georgie is It, [YN]! You have to believe me! You’re in danger-”

“This is crazy!” You shook her hands off yours as something like anger bubbled up from deep within you. It was a fiery, almost feral desire to protect Pennywise, your family. “Arianna, It’s not real. Do you hear me? It’s not real!”

“You know it’s real! Georgie told me you saw it! It was in your house!”

“Even if it was real, which it’s not, it’s not George!” You stormed past her and found yourself facing a bookshelf. You crossed your arms, ran your fingers through your hair, dragged a hand over your cheek. You were shaking again. “Arianna, did you tell Mr. Hanlon that Georgie is It? Tell me you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t!”

You whipped around, and Arianna was staring at you in horrified disbelief.

“You know,” she said airily.

“What?

“You know I’m right. You  _ know! _ ”

“Ari-”

“How long have you known?”

“Ari, I don’t-”

“ _ Don’t lie to me! _ ” she shrieked, stopping you in your tracks. “How long have you known, [YN]?”

Tears welled up in your own eyes. “The night before the wedding.”

“And it threatened you.”

“No.” You shook your head. “He didn’t threaten me. He promised no harm would come to me or anyone I love.”

Arianna looked like she was going to be sick. “And you married it? You knew what it was, and you married it?”

“I didn’t know what to do,” you sobbed. “But Ari, listen to me-”

“The scars on your neck...and you tried to kill yourself…”

“Listen to me, _ please _ -”

“Why didn’t you tell me? It could have killed me, [YN].”

“No! Oh my god, no!” You crossed the room and took Arianna by the shoulders. “He would never hurt you, Arianna. He does what he has to do to survive, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Oh my god.” Arianna shrugged your hands off and backed away. “You love it, don’t you?”

And in that moment, you hated her. She made you want to deny it. You wanted to tell her you didn’t love Pennywise. She made you ashamed of loving him, and you had come too far and suffered to much…

“Yes,” you admitted. “I love him.”

The look on Arianna’s face was one of utter betrayal, and you wanted to take it back. What was one white lie to a scared teenager? Pennywise would understand. But it was too late; you couldn’t unsay it. 

_ I meant it, damn it. I love him. _

“Arianna,  _ please _ don’t tell anyone,” you begged.

Tears fell down her cheeks again. “[YN], he’s going to hurt you.”

“He won’t. Not on purpose. I know he won’t. And he won’t hurt you. You just have to trust me.”

There was silence for too long, and by the end of it, you were both crying hard. You had no way of knowing what Arianna was feeling, but you were feeling nothing short of desperation. The life you had built for yourself could fall apart. You had to keep it together. Most importantly, you were not about to lose Pennywise without one hell of a fight.

Arianna would never see it your way. She ran from the office, then from the library in tears while you called her name after her. It was no use. She had made up her mind long before. The worst part what not knowing which of you was wrong or right.

You jumped half a mile when Mr. Hanlon’s hand landed on your shoulder, and he drew it back.

“[YN], are you okay? If there’s anything I can d-”

“What did she tell you?”

He pitied you. You could  _ feel  _ it.

“I know you don’t believe in…” He shuddered almost imperceptibly. “Well,  _ It _ , but-”

You shook your head. “Stay the  _ fuck _ away from my family,” you said, perhaps a little loud for being in a library. Then, like Arianna, you ran.

* * *

 

You couldn’t decide if you wanted him home. On one hand, not knowing where he was or if he was okay was killing you. On the other, Arianna told Mike Hanlon who we was - or was pretending to be. That meant that group of kids turned adults knew where to find him, if he was home. Did they know where to find him, in the sewers? Was he safe there? Was he safe anywhere, as long as they were in town?

There was a hard knock at the door, and you hoped to god it was Arianna. If you could just talk some sense into her…

Or maybe she would be the one talking sense into you. You shuddered at the thought.

Lexie heeled like the good dog she was and sat just behind your hip when you opened the door. It was a habit you had trained her when you lived alone. You figured no one would mess with a woman with a well-trained German shepherd by her side.

You opened the door only as wide as you absolutely had to. On your front porch was a man you’d never seen before. In Derry, that was quite an accomplishment. “Can I help you?” you asked cautiously.

He looked at you in something like amazement, as if he’d seen a ghost. “M-M-Mrs. Denbrough?” He cringed at his own stutter.

You had gotten used to answering to that question, but you had a nagging feeling that you shouldn’t, this time. The hair at the back of your neck prickled and stood on end. Electricity seemed to crackle in the air. “Who’s calling?”

“I’m B-Bill Denbrough, George Denbrough’s brother.”

_ Shit. _

“George isn’t here,” you said quickly, acting on your instinct to close the door, shut him out,  _ keep him out. _

He slammed his hand on the door to keep it from closing, and put his foot against the frame just in case. “[YN], please-”

“How do you know my name?” You pressed harder against the door, and it creaked ominously under the pressure from both sides. Lexie stood up and lowered her head, watching the struggle with laserlike focus, ready to jump in at any moment.

“Mike Hanlon told me. [YN], please, you’re in danger.”

“From the crazy men spreading my information and breaking into my home? Yeah, perhaps.”

“No, from your husband.”

Bill managed to get the upper hand and push the door open enough to get through. You stumbled back, and Lexie took her place next to you. You put your hand on the back of her neck as if to say “Don’t do anything, yet. We’re not in danger...yet.”

“George never mentioned a brother,” you said, the words falling out quick. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“I don’t. I know I don’t. And the things is, [YN]...” He winced. “My brother, George, died almost thirty years ago, when he was six.”

“Well, my husband is very much alive-”

“Your husband is not George Denbrough!”

Lexie growled when he shouted at you, and tightened your grip in her fur.  _ Don’t do anything. Not yet… _

“You need to get out of my house.”

“He’s a monster, [YN]! He doesn’t love you!”

That hit you hard, and there were so many things that you wanted to say: That he loved you, that you loved him, that Bill didn’t know him at all. What you said, though, was, “Get the fuck out of my house!”

Bill made no move to get the fuck out of your house. In fact, he came towards you. He opened his mouth to argue some more, but was cut off by-

“Get. Away. From my wife.”


	31. Comes Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thirty year old war brings a battle to your home.

All the color drained from Bill’s face. You wondered if this human persona, your husband George, actually looked like a grown up version of the late Georgie Denbrough. You had seen the boy’s picture on the poster Arianna found, of course, but you had been so shocked at the time, you hadn’t quite committed it to memory. For the briefest moment, you felt sick on behalf of the intruder.

George reached out to you and pulled you back, then pushed you behind him. You tried to hold your ground, but he was stronger than you, and he was afraid. You could feel it. 

“You’re not my brother,” Bill sobbed.

“You’re damn right, I’m not.”

Bill’s upper lip twisted into a snarl. You held on to George from behind, silently begging him to back up and let you get between them again. Then, Bill’s upper lip twisted into a snarl, and you realized...he meant to kill your husband, and he would kill you, too, if you got in the way.

You tightened your fists in the back of George’s shirt.  _ Don’t do anything. Not- _

Bill lunged, and you saw a glint of silver out of the corner of your eye. George shoved you aside hard, and you crashed to the wooden floor on your elbows. 

_ -yet _ .

You heard a snarl, and you turned just in time to see Lexie throw herself in between them. George fell to the ground with Lexie on top of him, with an angry  _ thump _ and the clatter of something hard on the floor. Bill stumbled but stayed upright, eyes wide, a trickle of blood on one hand, but no visible wound.

_ It’s not his blood. Oh my god, it’s- _

_ But it can’t be George’s. He’s Pennywise. His blood floats. _

George sat up, cradling Lexie in his arms. He ran his fingers through her fur. His hand came back in a white glove, stained with red.

“N-N-No,” Bill turned to you. “I d-didn’t m-m-mean-”

He seemed to realize how strange it was to apologize for what he’d done. Of course he didn’t mean to stab your dog; he meant to stab your husband. He closed his mouth and turned back to the grisly scene before you both.

George’s eyes burned yellow as his facade began to crack. His skin blanched, his lips turned red. It was as if someone painted Pennywise on top of George Denbrough. You had never seen him shift, before.

Bill stumbled backwards, catching himself on the doorframe. None of you had ever closed the door. He stared for a moment as if paralyzed, then ran from your home, practically falling down the porch steps and letting the momentum carry him out and down the street. In the moments after her left, there was quiet: The calm before the storm. The eye of the hurricane.

You scrambled over to Pennywise and Lexie as the shock began to wear off and panic set in. Lexie whimpered airily, and sticky blood dripped onto the floor. Your heart jumped into your throat. Anything but Lexie. She was such a good dog. 

“Penny!” You grabbed his shoulders and shook him, and he barely glanced at you. “Pennywise, we have to get her to the vet! Please!”

He grimaced, trying to repaint George over Pennywise.

_ Oh my god, he can’t do it. He’s not going to be able to shift. I can’t carry her. She’s going to die. _

Finally, with a forced exhale, George was back. “Meet us there,” he growled, and he and Lexie both were gone.

* * *

 

The waiting was the hardest part. It gave you too much time to think. To place blame.

If Arianna hadn’t gone and run her big mouth…

If Pennywise hadn’t killed Georgie Denbrough, almost thirty years ago…

If Bill Denbrough hadn’t forced his way into your house…

_ If you hadn’t moved to this godforsaken town, in the first godforsaken place… _

But she had. And he had. And he had. And you had. You were sitting in the small lobby of the animal hospital, waiting to hear if your sweet, innocent puppy was going to pull through, and a multitude of decisions had gotten you there. If even one thing had gone differently, had there been a single break in the chain, you would not have been there. Maybe it was fate, predestined, whatever mystical bullshit you wanted to call it. Mystical bullshit is still bullshit.

You laid your head on Pennywise’s shoulder. He was in his human form, but you found that you couldn’t think of him as George, anymore. You saw the way he fell back on Pennywise, struggling with George like an ill-fitting pair of pants. He was always Pennywise. At the moment, he was wearing George.

“How was she when you got her here?” you asked.

Pennywise sighed softly. He had been distant, from the moment Lexie had been hurt. “She was in pain.”

You wanted to cry, but no tears came. You were angry. You were going to kill Bill Denbrough. He had no right.

It took you a moment to realize that it was not you who was trembling. You looked at Pennywise, whose eyes had been fixed on the same floor tile for the last five minutes. “Are you alright?”

He shifted his gaze to a floor tile that was more in your direction. His hands were tight fists on his thighs. “I thought he was going to hurt you.”

You swallowed hard. You thought Bill was going to hurt  _ him _ .

“Why would he hurt me?” you asked in a weak attempt at comfort, rationalization. “He doesn’t have anything against me.”

A young vet tech in brightly colored scrubs entered from the back. Your eyes fixated on the small smear of blood on her arm. She didn’t seem to be aware of it.

“We were able to stop the bleeding and put in stitches,” she said. “We want to keep her overnight.”

You asked, “Is she okay?”

The vet tech nodded. “She was lucky.”

Yes, she was, wasn’t she? She was lucky, and Pennywise was lucky, and you were lucky. Next time, you might not be so lucky. You had to get rid of Bill Denbrough and his posse. Those “Losers” were after your husband. You didn’t have a moment to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: I had originally planned for Lexie to die in this chapter, but I decided to keep her as a gift to my buddy Teratist, who’s quite attached to her. :P


	32. Comes Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To save your family, you confront the enemy alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sings* ‘Cause this is filler... Filler night...
> 
> Possible spoilers, I guess? If you haven’t read the book or seen the miniseries.

You knew what you had to do. It was never a question. You would have done anything to protect your family. Why, then, did your feet feel like lead against the pavement? Why did you pause in front of the door? Why did your heart skip a beat when your hand landed on the handle?

The door to the restaurant swung open with an inappropriately cheerful jingle. You spotted them immediately, and they spotted you just as fast. You gauged each other from across the room. There were six of them. There was Mike Hanlon, looking miserable, and Bill Denbrough, looking sick. They were joined by three more men - one with glasses, one meek and mousy-looking, one generally unremarkable - and one woman. Two things were clear to you, even from across the room; they were deeply unsettled, and they pitied you. And there was one more thing which you had known going in, but hadn’t fully realized until you saw them sitting there, all crowded together on one side of a table; you were outnumbered.

You pushed your shoulders back and walked over to their table. You didn’t sit. This wasn’t brunch. You weren’t staying.

“You s-swear you’re alone?” Bill asked.

You glared at him.

Mike reached out to you, but you jerked your hand away. “[YN], please,” he said. “We want to help you. Did you come alone?”

You copped a joyless smile. “Are you kidding? Pennywise would flip his shit if he knew I was here with you.”

You took some joy from the way everyone tensed at the sound of Pennywise’s name. It reminded you that you were on the side of a very powerful being, that it wasn’t just you against all six of them.

“What do you mean?” the mousy man asked, a notable tremor in his voice. “It wouldn’t want you here?”

“He doesn’t exactly trust you.” You took the opportunity to glare at Bill again.

Bill shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. “L-listen, I’m really s-s-sorry about your dog. Is she…?”

“If she was dead, you’d have the barrel of a gun between your eyes.”

“Hey,” Mike interrupted. “[YN], there had to be a reason you called us here.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, no shit there’s a reason.”

“We can help you, [YN],” he  insisted. “We can protect you. You don’t have to stay with him.”

“I don’t need protection from him; I need protection from you!”

The table fell silent. Everyone looked shocked, except for Bill, who just looked guilty.

You steadied your breath and your voice and continued, “I don’t know what kind of mission you’re on, or what kind of duty you think you’re supposed to do here. I just want you to leave my family alone.”

“Family!” the man in glasses sneered. “Your husband is-”

“A monster?” You were thankful the restaurant was nearly empty, and no one else seemed to be paying much mind to your conversation. You lowered your voice, anyway. “He’s no more of a monster than any predator. Than any shark or...bear or what have you. He’s just trying to survive, like the rest of us.” You turned back to Bill. “I know he killed your brother. I am  _ sorry _ . But killing him won’t bring Georgie back; it will just destroy me, and-” You didn’t like the way your emotions came out in your voice. You needed to be strong. “If you do that to me, to  _ us _ , for no other reason than to satisfy some fucked up revenge pact, then you’re no better than him. You’re worse than him.”

“Oh my god.” The man in glasses wrinkled his nose. “You’re in love with it.”

The woman made a noise of disgust. “Pathetic,” she added quietly.

Oh, they were making you angry. You had come to reach a truce, and they were making you angry. You considered walking away, letting it be war between you. Why not let Pennywise kill them all? Instead, unable to shake the feeling that they could, in fact, inflict some serious damage on him, you narrowed your eyes at the woman. “Right. I’m pathetic. I fell in love with someone who cares about me, protects me, treats me well, always puts me first. Pathetic.”

She looked like you had slapped her, and your urge to personally strangle her with your bare hands was satisfied for the moment.

The other man, the one who hadn’t spoken yet, finally spoke up. “Why should we leave It alone? For you? It kills and eats kids. We’d be doing the whole town a favor.”

“Because your fearless leader here broke into my house with a knife and stabbed my dog, who was protecting me and my husband, and I have that knife as evidence, and I will take him straight to court for attempted murder.”

Everyone reacted a little differently to this new development. Mike’s eyes went wide, the woman’s hand covered her mouth, the mousy man gasped, the other man sat up a little straighter, Bill winced.

The man in glasses sputtered, “There’s no guarantee he’ll be convicted.”

“Please. You all know my husband can do more than a little shapeshifting in this town.”

“Well, well, we can-”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Bill added miserably. He looked at you. “What if it’s worth it to me?”

“Going to prison for nothing?” you asked. “Believe me, Bill; killing Pennywise was never on the table. Either you leave – you  _ all _ leave – or I take you to court and Pennywise disappears.”

“It won’t disappear,” the other man said. “It’s too prideful.”

“ _ He  _ will do what I tell him.”

“Why?”

“Because-”

You stopped yourself.  _ Because he loves me _ would not have been a good enough argument for these folks. They would never believe you. They would think you crazy, and they wouldn’t take anything you had to say seriously. Lord knows how long they would stick around, looking for Pennywise, intent on getting rid of him. They may never leave.

It was Mike who spoke up, surprising you all. “Because it loves her.”

The other five looked at him like he had six heads.

“I’ve been here this whole goddamn time,” he continued. “I’ve seen them. Of course, he was acting human, but I suspected… As much I wanted to believe that he really was little Georgie Denbrough back from the other side, I always suspected. I just needed proof.”

“Arianna was your proof,” you said.

He nodded. “Arianna was my proof. The point is, I’ve been watching.”

The man in glasses, Richie, spoke up again. “It’s faking! There’s no way that thing loves anything!”

“It loves her,” Mike said. “I think it loves that dog. I think maybe it loves Arianna Robertson, too. You don’t have to believe me. If you want to go on doing what we swore we’d do, I’ll be right there with you. The decision is yours, but I’m telling you I think she’s right.” He met your eyes. “I know she’s right. It will do what she says.”

“Then it’s  _ you _ who is the monster,” Richie said to you, and he was right. As much as you didn’t want to believe it, your association and compliance with Pennywise made you guilty of every murder he had committed.

You nodded. “I can live with that. I can live with my part in all this.” You weren’t sure if that was true, but it would have to be. “The question you need to ask yourselves is: Can you?”

* * *

 

You had left them at that, praying they would take your offer of peace if they left, trying to convince yourself that they couldn’t hurt Pennywise, anyway. Evidently, Pennywise had not wondered where you were at any time during your little talk with his old enemies. If he had, the whole restaurant would have been razed to the ground; you were sure of it. They scared him, and that scared you. If they didn’t take your offer, you didn’t know what would happen. All you knew was that you wanted to get as much space between yourself and them as soon as possible, so you rushed down the street, anxious to get home.

The poster was stapled to the lamppost right where you turned onto Neibolt Street. You usually ignored them. After so long, everyone in Derry seemed to tune them out. You almost ignored this one, like all the others. When your gaze did momentarily fixate on it, you stopped so fast you nearly fell over. What you saw couldn’t be real. Pennywise was responsible for every missing person in Derry - at least, he had been since you arrived - and he would never… Even Mike knew that he would never…

And yet, it was staring you in the face.

_ Arianna Robertson. 15 years old. Last seen- _


	33. Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You confront Pennywise about Arianna's disappearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned on the last chapter being so long or this one existing, so I had to add a whole chapter to the story. I'm hoping to publish the Chapter 35 on the 18th, exactly one year from the day I published Chapter 1. Wish me luck!

You tore the poster off the lamppost and stared at it in disbelief. She was last seen the day before, leaving the library. Just after she confronted you about Georgie being Pennywise, you assumed. Her parents had called while you were at the animal hospital to ask if she was with you. You told them you last saw her leaving the library, and you didn’t think a goddamn thing about it. 

_ Oh my god, I should have followed her. Why didn’t I follow her? _

You sprinted the rest of the way to your house. With Lexie still recovering at the animal hospital, there was no one to greet you at the front door. You slammed it behind you. “Pennywise,” you called into your seemingly empty house, “what the  _ fuck _ have you done?”

Surely it was a mistake. she was upset, when she left the library. Maybe she had gone somewhere to hide, to be alone.

It was a great theory, except Arianna Robertson wasn’t an  _ idiot. _

“Pennywise!” you shouted again.

This time, he walked down the stairs, as if he had been there the whole time. He hadn’t been. You knew these things. God only knows where he was when he heard you call, then he warped himself to the top of the stairs and walked down to give you the illusion of normalcy. In another situation, you might have appreciated it.

You held the poster out to him, suddenly finding it very hard to stay calm. “You didn’t.  _ Tell me you didn’t _ .”

He accepted the poster, but his eyes were on you, analyzing your expression and behavior. Finally, he looked down. His calm demeanor immediately shattered. He jerked his head back up and glared at you. “What is this?”

“You tell me, Pennywise.”

His eyes lit up like a neon sign, and his claws tore through his gloves and into the paper in his hand. He snarled at you, showing off sharp teeth that reminded you of your sharks at the aquarium.

You didn’t realize you were backing away until your back hit the door. You gasped. “Please, don’t-”

“Hurt you?” he asked, voice rising in pitch. He slapped a fake smile on his face. It immediately faltered. “Don’t you dare fear me, [YN].”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“ _ Yes, you are! _ ”

You held your breath while his aggressive posture wilted bit by bit. “Yes, you are,” he repeated. “You are.”

You remembered finding him in the basement after someone fought back. The image crossed through your mind like a slide in a projector. Wounded. Vulnerable. An injured animal is more likely to lash out.

“If you didn’t do it, who did?” you asked.

He locked eyes with you. His lips were pressed together in a firm line. He spoke quietly but deliberately. “Fuck you.”

You blinked. He had done this. Of course, he had. Who else? But Mike Hanlon’s words floated around in the back of your mind—“I think maybe it loves Arianna Robertson, too.”

The anger in Pennywise’s eyes had gone cold. He smirked. “Uh oh, oh no,” he sang. “We’re not having doubts are we? You were so sure.”

What if you were wrong? What if something else had happened to Arianna? What if she needed your help?

Pennywise’s smirk turned into a sneer, then another snarl. “Do you think you’re special?” He stalked forward. “That there is something special about  _ you? _ That I would never hurt  _ you? _ ”

“Just tell me the truth,” you begged. “I can’t deal with this. Just be honest with me and tell me what’s going on.”

He straightened up and looked down his painted nose at you. “I do not know. I do not know where Ari has gone. I do not know why she has gone.”

“She was upset. She knows you’re you. She knows that I know who you are, and she thought—”

“Thought I would hurt her?” His voice cracked, and the rest of his thought came out in a hoarse growl. “That is what you thought.”

In the silence that followed, your racing heart finally slowed down. You breathed in deeply. Your muscles relaxed. He hadn’t done anything. Of course, he hadn’t. You had been wrong.

“If she was in Derry, I would be able to feel her,” he said. “She is gone.”

“Out of town.”

“Perhaps.”

“What else could that mean?”

You had meant that question to be rhetorical. It wasn’t. His silence was his answer. Panic began to set in again. “You don’t think—?”

“I don’t know.”

His voice had gotten so quiet. He was hurting. He was faced with a problem he couldn’t fix, not as easily as he was used to. You tried to go to him, to hug him, but he turned away from you.

“Penny?”

He moved farther away from you. Your heart sank.

You were right that he was hurting, but you were wrong about why. You had hurt him.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I should have trusted you. Please, listen to me!”

If he was listening, he gave no indication. He moved a little faster, putting more space between you. You tried to close it.

“What are we going to do?” you asked. You were practically chasing him to the basement, at this point. “We have to find her!”

Of course, you thought, if it wasn’t Pennywise who had taken her, maybe the police would find her. Then a worse thought crossed your mind, and you froze in the hallway just before you reached the basement door.

“Oh my god, we’ll suspects. We’ll  _ suspects _ .” You bolted into the basement after Pennywise, nearly falling down the stairs. “Pennywise, if the police investigate this house, we’re in big fucking trouble!”

Finally, he stopped, just as he reached the well. He looked back at you, and you could see that he understood. You continued explaining, anyway.

“If we deny a search, that’ll be suspicious as hell, and even if they don’t have enough reason to suspect suspect us, Mike Hanlon and his cronies will damn well hand it to them. They’ll come back with a warrant, and they will find plenty of evidence to convict us of murder.  _ Several _ murders.”

Could Pennywise survive in prison? Could he survive on human food? What would happen, if he was captured by people who didn’t know, and would likely refuse to believe, what he was? Come to that, what would they do to him if they did know what he was?

“Let me take the blame for it,” you said. “Prison is made for humans! I’ll be fine!”

“You are stupid.”

“If they take you-”

“They can’t keep me. I’m a  _ shapeshifter _ .”

So he was, and you knew that, but your fear was clouding your judgement, and that was the last thing you needed. You had to get it together, both of you, if you had any chance of getting out of this mess. 

He stared at the ground beneath your feet for a minute, and when he met your eyes again, he had a plan. “You know nothing. Do you understand? I will take the blame, and you will run.”

You shook your head frantically. “I’m not leaving you.”

“I will find you.”

“How?”

He paused. Then, “I will find you. I will always find you.”

You didn’t like it. There were too many  _ ifs _ , too many places for his plan to fall apart, but you doubted there was a likeable way out of this situation. It was the only possible solution you could control; he would take the blame, you would get the hell out of dodge, and he would find you. All you would have to do was convince a judge of your innocence, and he would be able to handle the rest. Convincing a judge of your innocence, however, sounded like something that was easier said than done.

Pennywise disappeared into the well. You remained in the basement and prayed to every god you knew of that Arianna would turn up before any of this came to pass. 


	34. No Matter What

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reflecting on your situation, you desperately hope Pennywise’s plan will work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY! This was supposed to be the last chapter, but I got carried away with Chapter 32. That being said, the last chapter is DONE and will be published on the 18th, exactly a year after I published Chapter 1.

The police came by the house that night to question you and “George.” You denied any involvement in Arianna’s disappearance. You consented to a forensic search of the house. They said they would come back in the morning.

You were getting dressed in your work uniform when the weight of it all hit you. It would take a miracle for you to not end this day behind bars, and miracles were in short supply in Derry. You had used your last one, it seemed, getting your puppy home.

Lexie was still a little out of it. She was laying on the bed, asleep, while you were getting ready to leave. You didn’t want to leave her alone. Even more, you didn’t want to be alone.

“Pennywise?”

He didn’t bother with the ceremony of appearing outside the door and coming in. You watched in the mirror on the dresser as he materialized behind you, looking as solemn as you. You met his eyes in the mirror.

“I’m sorry. Really, I’m so sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have blamed you for Arianna’s disappearance. I was being stupid.”

“I forgive you.”

You wondered, though not for the first time, how a creature that fed on fear and flesh could sometimes be better than most people. You turned and wrapped your arms around him, holding on as tight as you could. You didn’t have to tell him that you were afraid. He knew. He didn’t make any snide comments about your fear smelling disgusting. That probably meant that he was afraid, too. You didn’t like that.

He hugged you back. “The Loser’s Club left Derry, last night,” he said. 

You braced yourself for another confrontation, dreading going to work on this day without reconciling everything. Who knew what was going to become of the two of you? But he never said anything else. He hadn’t found out what you had done to make them leave.

“What if our plan doesn’t work?” you asked.

He held you a little tighter. “It will work. I am not going to lose you, now.”

“You’d better not.”

The alarm on your phone went off, and you jumped. Every little noise sounded like a warning of your impending doom. Maybe, this one was. It was time for you to go.

“I love you,” you said, “no matter what.”

“I love you, too.”

You reluctantly backed out of Pennywise’s arms, unsure when or if you would ever get to hold him again.

* * *

When children went missing in Derry, no one gave a shit. No one talked about it. It was as if no one knew. This time, like some sort of divine punishment, everyone knew. People regarded you skeptically as you walked from your car to the aquarium. Your coworkers greeted you with equal parts questioning and sympathy. “I heard about your friend! Oh my god, are you okay? Do you know what happened?” You shrugged off their questions in a fog. You just wanted to do your job.

“[YN], hey,” Beth said forcefully while you were on your way out to the public area if the aquarium. “I’m talking to you.”

“Sorry, what?”

“You’re in a funk. Why don’t you work behind the scenes, today?”

“It’s August. We’re busy.”

“Not too busy that the rest of us can’t handle it, and you’re clearly in no shape to be interacting with the public.”

You wanted to argue, but didn’t have the energy.

The problem with Beth’s plan was that it gave you far too much time by yourself to think. After over a year of working at the aquarium, the work behind the scenes was mindless. You did it on autopilot. The dim light and whirring white noise of tank filters blocked out everything except your internal monologue. You thought about a lot of things.

You thought about Arianna for a long time. Where had she gone? Surely she hadn’t run away. She wouldn’t. That meant she had been kidnapped. The thought made you sick.

You thought about your parents’ divorce, what it did to you, and how you had finally overcome it. You wondered if they would take you back in your hour of need, if you could even reconnect with them. You wondered if you wanted to.

You thought about Lexie and everything the two of you had been through together. Who would take care of her, if Pennywise’s plan failed?

Of course, you thought about Pennywise more than anything else. You thought about the first time you saw him, in a picture in a book in the library, completely unaware that he was standing right next to you in a human body. You’d had nightmares, visions of him in your sleep. Then, you hated him. Then, you loved him.

Before you knew it, all the work was done, and you were in even worse shape to be interacting with the public. You sat on the floor by the shark tank, watching the girls’ fins break the surface every now and again before disappearing below the water again. It might have been peaceful.

Bull sharks, you had known before you even took this job at the aquarium, were extremely dangerous, with their ability to swim up freshwater rivers and reputation for attacking without provocation. Some say many, maybe even most reported attacks attributed to great whites were actually bull sharks. They’re a hidden danger, disguised, much like a certain monster that lurked below the city of Derry. 

Or maybe, Pennywise was the great white shark in your story, the mysterious  _ It _ you had feared and blamed and avoided at all cost, and in the end, it wasn’t  _ It _ that dragged you down into deepwater; it was a human. The loss of a young girl. Your  _ Carcharhinus leucas _ .

Two dorsal fins broke the surface at once, and in spite of everything, you smiled. You had really grown to love those two nameless girls. You loved the turtles and even a few choice fish. You loved your coworkers. You let yourself wonder what your life in Derry might have been like if your had never met Pennywise, if you had chosen a different street to live on, if you hadn’t been so goddamn afraid of commitment that you attracted an eldritch horror who feeds on fear. You came to the conclusion that your life would have been better, if you had never known him. But you did know him. You knew him better than anyone ever had...didn’t you? Or had there been humans before you who knew him? Loved him? He had been around for an awfully long time. Maybe, you weren’t special, after all.

A splash in the water, caused by a thrash of a tail fin, brought your thoughts back into the present. If your plan failed, you might never see this place again. Shit, if your plan succeeded, you might never see this place again. Your heart sped up, and your palms began to sweat. You couldn’t let yourself think like that. The police would have already been done searching your house. There was nothing you could do. It was out of your hands. You had to trust your husband. You took a deep breath, and the nerves subsided.

They came with heavy footsteps and the jingle of keys.

No, not keys. Handcuffs.

“[YN] Denbrough?”

_ Remember, you know nothing. _ You got to your feet. “Yes, Officer?”

_ I’m trusting you, Penny. I hope to god you know what you’re doing. _

“You’re under arrest for the murder of seven individuals. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will…”


	35. Do Us Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End.

You packed as if you were going on vacation, not leaving for good. You packed a suitcase full of clothes and toiletries, a bag of valuables, Lexie’s things, and your old music box. The car wasn’t even as full as it had been when you first arrived in Derry. You wanted to start over— _needed_ to start over, forget this place and everyone and everything in it.

Well, almost everyone.

The trial was over fast. “George Denbrough” plead guilty to the murders of Emily Ryan, Samantha Evans, Gage Creed, Kayleigh Reynolds, Alon Smitt, Mark McCullough, and Marissa St. Claire. He did not plead guilty in the disappearance of Arianna Robertson.

You had filed for divorce, after that. It was a surprisingly quick and easy process, due to the circumstances. You got the house, the dog, all your shared possessions, and your maiden name back. George got a life sentence at Shawshank.

You wondered how long Pennywise would stay in prison. He could leave at any time, of course—turn into a beetle or a fly and just leave. Surely, then, you would get a call from the prison warning you that your crazy, serial-killer ex-husband was on the loose. Then, even if you forgot everything about your time in Derry, that would jog your memory.

Pennywise had warned you that you might forget. Nonsense. You would never forget. Not him. Not after everything…

Arianna’s parents had come by once after the trial. You had been shocked to see them on your doorstep, having come tearfully but in peace. You were even more surprised when they hugged you and told you that it wasn’t your fault, that they were so sorry, that _everyone_ thought George was such a good man.

Pennywise’s plan had worked down to the letter.

You knew he exerted some level of psychic influence over this town; you only wished it had been enough to save both of you from the skeletons in the closet. You hoped it was enough for him to find you in a year. That’s what you agreed. One year. You didn’t know where you were going. You were just leaving, seeing where the wind would blow you. Maybe, you could end up by the sea, or at least another aquarium.

The car wasn’t even moving yet, wasn’t even in gear, and yet you were careening too fast into an ever uncertain future. You cast a nervous glance and Lexie in the rearview mirror. You decided it was too quiet and turned on the radio.

You hadn’t changed the station since the day you moved to Derry. It was a good station with few commercials and good music. No reason to change it. The song they had been playing faded out, and a familiar song began: The song they had been playing when you first turned to that station, over a year earlier.

_“What day is it, and in what month? This clock never seemed so alive.”_

That was it. You laid your head on the steering wheel and sobbed. You had come to this town nervous and alone but so full of hope. You were leaving it beaten-down and heartbroken, but at least you had Lexie in the back seat. As long as you had her, you weren’t completely alone.

Pennywise, too. You still had him. You’d have to be apart for a while, but only a while. He would find you. You had to believe that.

You looked back at the two houses you had lived in, during your time in Derry. 29 Neibolt Street was unrecognizable from when you had moved in next door. Even more, a family had finally bought 27 Neibolt Street. They would be moving in soon. You were told they had a young girl.

Sentimental as you were, when you finally hit the gas pedal, and watched Neibolt Street disappear behind you, you knew that it hadn’t been your home. The houses didn’t matter. Pennywise mattered. Lexie mattered. Arianna mattered. Your family mattered.

You may have been driving a little fast, eager to just get out of town, already. You came to a screeching halt by The Kissing Bridge, where you and Georgie had carved your initials after getting engaged. “Derry Official,” you mumbled to yourself, already getting out of the car. You didn’t have a knife, but you had a pen.

It took you several minutes to find your initials, and then you stared at them for several more before doing anything. They had been carved less than a year ago, but they seemed so ancient. They were a relic from a very different time in your life.

You scribbled over the _G_ and replaced it with a _P_. You had to make it Derry official, before leaving forever.

When you crossed the town line, it was a shocking relief.

You would head South, you decided. You had considered Canada, but warmth sounded nice. Derry had been so bitterly cold in the winter. You were already feeling the fall chill. Perhaps, you could start over in a Southern, seaside town. You could go all the way to the Gulf. Hell, you could go to the Pacific.

Of course, you didn’t have to go to the ocean at all. You were drawn to the ocean because…because...right. That’s right. You worked at an aquarium.

Your last task at the Derry Aquarium had been to name your sharks. Your coworkers had given you to the honor. You named the smaller one Lucy, an ode to their scientific name. You named the larger one Penny. For a terrifying moment, you couldn’t remember where you’d gotten that name. The moment passed. There was no way in hell you were forgetting Pennywise.

If you enjoyed working at a tiny aquarium in Derry, Maine of all places, surely the real ocean would be even better. Derry didn’t have access to the ocean. Hell, Derry didn’t have much of anything. It had...what? A bowling alley? My god, how had you stayed there for over a year without losing your mind?

 _Because your husband was there,_ of course. You two had been happy, before everything went to shit. Before...what happened?

Your head was spinning, and you had to pull over on the highway. You had forgotten where you were going. How had you forgotten where you were going? Then, you remembered; you weren’t going _to_ anywhere, you were simply going _away_ from...wherever you’d come from. Fuck, where had you-?

Derry! You had come from Derry. You had lived on…a street, and worked at…water? What the fuck?

You considered calling for help. Something was wrong. You were sick. You needed…

And it was over as quickly as it had started. You were leaving Derry, where you had lived for about a year and a half. You lived on Neibolt Street and worked at the aquarium, and…there was something else important, wasn’t there?

Whatever. You were fine. You pulled back out onto the highway and continued South. The radio began to crackle with distance, so you changed the station. You smiled, feeling free. Derry just wasn’t the place for you. It wasn’t anything special. Honestly, you couldn’t for the life of you remember what had kept you there so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's over!!! :'o Thank you all so, so much for coming on this crazy journey with me. This story has been my main for well over a year, but I published the first chapter a year ago, today. You're all wonderful. I have lived for your comments. Not sure what I'm going to do with my life now, lol.
> 
> I have a new Pennywise/Reader project I've barely started working on, so keep your eyes peeled. It will probably be a while before I start posting that one, but in the meantime, I'll be updating the Imaginary Friend series and may spit out a one shot now and again. I'd love to hear from y'all again.
> 
> The end, for now.
> 
> <3 Andy


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